


With The Tide

by the_scabbard



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, F/M, Pirate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 104,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_scabbard/pseuds/the_scabbard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When pirate Captain Emma Swan is offered a hefty amount of gold as a reward to capture Princess Regina Mills, who escaped to sea a day before she was to marry a powerful man, it is an opportunity she cannot resist taking. Medieval Pirate Swan Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The King And His Men

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: (this chapter) – Violence. Also, there is a Captain Swan sex scene. This will be the only one, as Swan Queen is endgame.  
> Authors Notes: I've been promising this fic for a little while on tumblr. I'm so freaking happy to be actually posting it! Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines and to athomewithlana for giving it a read over as well.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_The tide rises, the tide falls,_   
_The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;_   
_Along the sea-sands damp and brown_   
_The traveler hastens toward the town,_   
_And the tide rises, the tide falls._   
_Darkness settles on roofs and walls,_   
_But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;_   
_The little waves, with their soft, white hands_   
_Efface the footprints in the sands,_   
_And the tide rises, the tide falls._   
_The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls_   
_Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;_   
_The day returns, but nevermore_   
_Returns the traveler to the shore._   
_And the tide rises, the tide falls._

"Excellent," the domineering voice proclaimed from her vantage point. "With any luck, we'll be docked in Tortuga by sundown tonight."

A great clamour of jubilation went up from the crew on deck. A particularly drunken old seadog who went by the nickname 'Grumpy' staggered forward, doffing his lopsided hat at her.

"Don't strain yourself Grumpy," the Captain ordered, hand clenched on the wheel to maintain their course. "We wouldn't want to strain you before we reach the Tortugan whores tonight, would we?"

Another swell of noise went up, this time consisting of laughs and jeers. Grumpy, still trying to keep his balance, mockingly laughed along. He drew his dagger, trying to look menacing, but the effect was ruined by his suddenly plunging towards the ground face-first.

"Somebody lock him in the brig for a few hours until he sobers ups," the Captain commanded, turning her back on the commotion on deck. Her navigator was shimmying down the mast from the crow's nest where she'd been situated. The Captain was looking for ships stupid enough to be lingering around these seas. She was pretty sure that she would need one more haul of gold and jewels before she had enough to pay for six month supply of food and other necessities.

"Captain Swan!" The navigator exclaimed, stumbling towards her on impact with the swaying deck. "There's a ship approaching us from the north east. Looks like a juicy merchant's plum. God only knows what an idiot the Captain has to be to sail so close to Tortuga…"

"Either a trap or…" Emma let her voice trail off, a greedy glint in her eye.

"They're flying under the flag of the Summerlands, Captain. But it's a Winterlands ship and crew – which means diplomatic immunity." the navigator told her, trying and failing to withhold her smirk.

"Belle, forget the merchant's ship,  _you're_  the juicy plum. Now get back up to the nest, but don't fly the flag just yet. Wait until that ship's in range."

"Yes, Captain." Belle saluted before scrambling back up to the nest.

"All hands on deck!" Emma called out, pitching her voice below a screech but louder than a yell. "Quartermaster to me! Red, get ready to fire – incapacitating, no destroying! Dwarves – ready to board target as soon as we're level."

Below there was chaos as her crew scrambled to obey orders. A couple burst from below deck, the woman racing towards Emma and the man drawing his sword, looking vicious and ready to spill blood. Below, the Captain could hear Red, her Master Gunner, calling out orders for her underlings. The Dwarves, seven brothers (including Grumpy) who had joined the crew together and had been subsequently given ridiculous nicknames, prepared ropes to board the merchant ship.

The Captain felt the presence of her Quartermaster by her side as she swung her ship around to a more direct confrontational course. She handed her the telescope knotted to her belt. "Tell me what you see, Snow."

"Large merchant ship," the Quartermaster Snow replied, pressing the rim of the telescope to her eye. "Under the flag of King Midas of the Summerlands, rich as a skunk and just as smart. Likely well-armed, perhaps twice the men we have." Snow pursed her lips, squinting through the glass. "Hang on, that's Captain Warson of Whitewing."

"The biggest pussy on the high seas?" Emma replied incredulously. "Give me the 'scope. I want to see this for myself."

Snow dutifully handed it over and the Captain cracked it open for a first good look at her target. It was just as Snow and Belle had described. A juicy merchant ship – primed for the perfect loot, captained by a total idiot. "You know," Emma commented as she slid the telescope back. "If this was Neverland, I'd be positive it was some kind of magical trap. I haven't been this fortunate on one day for about twenty years, when we found that ship King Midas accidentally turned to gold, sunk off the west coast of the Summerlands. Do you remember, step-mother?"

"Vividly, Emma. It was the day before my wedding to your father, and you almost missed giving me away to dig up buried treasure." Snow replied with a laugh. Then her eyes locked on Emma's belt. "Forgive me, Captain Swan, but won't you be needing your sword at some point today?"

The Captain looked down at her belt and empty scabbard, swearing colourfully. She took off down the steps at a rate of knots, plunging into the fray of pirates preparing and clearing the deck for battle. She successfully pushed her way through the throng, bursting into her quarters and grabbing the shining, newly-sharpened blade from her bedspread. She tested it on the web of her thumb, smirking in satisfaction when a thin line of blood flowered. The sound of loud preparations lessened noticeably as Emma slid her sword back into its place on her belt. "Shit," she murmured. That could only mean that she'd missed Belle's warning shout that the merchant ship was in range. The colours would be flying. It was time to pick this juicy plum.

Emma barrelled back up on deck, shoving crew out of the way without apology – there would be time for that later when she could offer them the riches of this loot. She reached Snow quickly, but not out of breath. Core fitness was an underestimated quality in a good pirate.

The merchant ship was easily viewable by eye now, as was the hustle and bustle on deck. Now, that was interesting. Warson might be an idiot, but clearly there was somebody on deck who wasn't. Suddenly, there were a series of loud bangs. The Captain instinctively ducked, but then realised the merchant ship hadn't scored a single hit. Beside her, Snow was crowing with laughter. "C-captain… they have gold balls!"

"Gold cannon balls?" She asked her Quartermaster disbelievingly, then fell about laughing, clutching her sides in sheer hilarity. The idea was stupidity in itself.

The merchant ship drew ever closer, but it hadn't fired again, clearly recognising the futility of distance. But Emma's brow furrowed. At distance, gold cannon balls were ridiculous. At close range… the damage would be immeasurable.

"Ready!" She shouted suddenly, swinging the wheel around to block the path of the merchant ship with only a second's warning. "FIRE!"

The order was repeated by her crew's yells and seconds later the blasts echoed through the air, taking their impact on the other ship. Now it was listing slightly to one side, but still heading strongly towards them. Still in control of the wheel, Emma steered the ship so that it was parallel to the merchant boat once more.

"Keep sailing her straight, boys!" The Captain yelled as they drew closer and closer… now overlapping and then they were side-along. "FIRE!" She yelled again as the fatal blasts sounded from both sides. Emma felt the impact of every gold cannon ball that hit the ship but gritted her teeth and watched as the dwarves, minus Grumpy, launched themselves towards the merchant ship – the 'Merry Maiden', according to the paintwork.

But Captain Swan was soon distracted from trivial things like names by their own visitors from the maiden. She engaged one while Snow tackled another on her way to the mast, where the bow on her back would be most effective. Cut, parry, cut, thrust… into the sailor's belly and he rapidly died on her sword. She dodged another sailor with a scraggly beard just in time as he came hurtling towards her yelling.

Lightning fast, she leapt on to him and shimmied up his body to grasp the rope that he was already gripping tightly. Before he even opened his mouth to scream, she impaled her knife in his forearm and watched in satisfaction as his grip slackened and he plunged into the sea below.

Swinging from a rope to a different ship could be very disorienting, as the man she had just stabbed could testify, but Emma was a very old hand. She dismounted with the grace of a cat and found herself duelling two men – one with the uniform of an ordinary sailor and one slightly higher up, a junior officer perhaps. She stabbed the sailor with her already blood-stained knife as the officer gargled through the arrow that had sprouted from his throat. Captain Swan made a silent hand sign she knew the archer, Snow, would see –  _thank you._

Her good luck ran out again quickly.

Somehow she'd been backed up against the wheel of the ship by four men with varying degrees of murder in their eyes. Then all of a sudden, there was a thick band of steel around her waist, a painful yanking sensation at her ribs and a warm body at her back. Emma stiffened as the pair, herself and her saviour, soared away from the men and landed heavily on the deck. The rope her rescuer had used to save her continued along its trajectory as the breath flooded back into her body.

The arm around her waist spun her face to face with her saviour. A sly grin crept across his face as he dropped a kiss on the back of her hand. "Emma."

"Killian," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "As melodramatically romantic as ever, I see."

"Can I help it if you inspire such emotion in me, sweetheart?" He replied, jerking them both down to the floor as a sailor took a hopeful swipe at both of their necks with a curved sabre three times his size.

"We'll catch up later Jones," Emma Swan commanded, pushing him off her. "And try to keep that hook of yours to yourself for ten minutes…" she trailed off, having spotted the good Captain Warson himself. She sprinted towards the nearest stairwell and flung herself up it. The young man looked infernally cocky and Emma itched to wipe the expression off his face. Later, she promised herself. First, her eyes centred on the man with a stern grip on the railings, yelling orders. Unless she was very much mistaken, he was the one who was really in charge here.

Emma pitied him. The battle was looking increasingly hopeless, especially now that Captain Killian Jones, known to most as Captain Hook, had joined the fray with his own crew from  _The Jolly Roger_ which was situated alongside the portside of the ship, whereas her own ship,  _The Bloody Blade_  was at the starboard side. With twice the number of pirates, the battle would be short-lived.

Captain Swan was abruptly torn from her analysis of the fight as the authoritative man with the stiff stance turned to face her. She feigned a gasp of surprise at seeing his features, although truthfully she had known who he was the moment she had laid eyes on his iron-strong form.

"Admiral Stone," she bowed sweepingly, doffing her hat in respect. "What a lovely surprise, seeing you here. We haven't had a chance to chat since, oh… the Barricade of the Bluebottle."

"Swan," he nodded in a gesture of what would've been a respectful greeting had he not drawn his sword at the same time. "As cocky as ever, I see. And as beautiful," he reluctantly added.

"Immortality has it perks," she conceded. "At least I have good reason to be cocky, unlike your young friend over there," she pointed with her sword at Warson; he had just managed to lightly cut Bashful, one of her loyal Dwarves, across the hip. "Next Admiral of the Winterlands navy is he? That should give me an easy few decades."

"Over my dead body," the current Admiral growled, before seemingly recalling who he was talking to. "What do you want Swan? I'm not interested in some ridiculous duel to prove that the wound you inflicted on me during Bluebottle has really done its job." He indicated his twisted and gnarled left leg, the flesh of which ended at the knee and was continued on by a wooden calf.

"I'm a pirate," Emma said softly. "Not a bully."

Stone barked in laughter. "The two are rarely exclusive, but you're an exception, dear. It'd be a lot easier to hate you for maiming me if you  _were_ a bully." The man exhaled a hefty sigh. "All right, terms of surrender. You can take whatever you like. Food, jewels, women… I don't care. And you can behead Captain Warson as long as I can keep the ship."

Emma stared at him for a long second, and then chuckled. "You old dog. You planned this. You wanted me to do the dirty work and kill Warson for you. You  _knew_  I wouldn't be able to resist this ship and  _that's_ why you were sailing so close to Tortuga." Her brow furrowed. "How'd you know I was making port there tonight?"

Admiral Stone inclined his head. "I have my sources." A tiny hint of a smile passed his lips. "And you're rash, Swan, but never stupid."

"I'll kill Warson for you," Emma told him. "But you're going to have to surrender to me to make it look… authentic."

Stone rolled his eyes. "You don't have to enjoy it so much."

Emma grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind his back so he was effectively pinned between her and the railings. She tugged on his arm lightly and Stone took the cue to yell loudly in supposed pain. She drew her knife and held it to his throat. "Surrender or he dies," she called loudly so it echoed across the deck, where most of the fighting was taking place. Slowly it died out into silence.

Captain Swan could easily tell the men of the Winterlands from those of the Summerlands. The former slowly lowered their weapons after an almost imperceptible nod from Admiral Stone. The latter dropped all of theirs with clatter.

Emma turned her head to where she'd last seen Warson but the cowardly Captain was racing to the side as if to jump over the edge. Her legs tensed to sprint to where he was leaping through the air but then suddenly there was a yelp of shock as a well-aimed arrow pierced his shirt and pinned him to the bow of his ship.

"If you'd do the honours, Captain," Emma nodded to Hook who strode over to where Warson dangled in three easy strides, yanking him up and ripping his shirt open in the process. Hook marched back over to where she was standing and dropped Warson, who was now snivelling like a dog at her feet.

Suddenly there was quiet dissent on deck; something unusual appeared to be happening. The Admiral seemed to have noticed what was going on as well. "At attention, men!" He roared. Emma watched the realisation dawn in the eyes of his crew as Hook's most precious pirate – the Princess Aurora of Summerlands and Autumnlands, boarded  _The Merry Maiden_. The crew of The Bloody Blade sank into deep bows and Emma, dragging Admiral Stone along with her, stepped forward to kiss the Princess's hand. "Your Highness," she murmured.

"Careful, Swan," said a dangerous voice from the Princess's side. "I know what you're like with beautiful women."

"Mulan." Emma greeted, clasping the warrior's forearm in greeting. "I'd kiss your hand too but I don't want to piss Aurora off, especially since she seems to be keeping your balls along with her own."

Aurora smiled daintily at her. "Don't get too indulgent with the compliments, Captain. Now can we please continue with the looting? I've made enough of a scene."

Emma drew Snow to one side. "Split the loot half and half with Hook's joke of a Quartermaster."

Snow frowned. "Emma, it's been over a century. Can't you just…"

"No." She said shortly. "I won't forgive him. And it's Captain Swan to you, unless we're alone. So split the loot and don't make a fuss while I take care of the crew of this ship."

"Yes, Captain," Snow bowed her head deferentially and went off to deal with Hook's Quartermaster. Emma took a breath to calm herself down, then approached the men who had been organised into kneeling rows on the deck, specifically the so-called Captain of the ship – Warson.

Grinning, she drew her dagger from its sheath and toyed with the edge before pointing it under Warson's chin, forcing him to look up at her.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" She asked quietly, but threateningly.

"Some sea wench who thinks a hat and a knife make her a pirate," Warson shrugged, his arrogance apparently overriding his fear. Either that, or he wasn't feeling intimidated… yet.

Sighing with what seemed like frustration, but was actually pure enjoyment, Emma reached up to remove the hat which was hiding her hair. Beautiful golden curls fell down her back. "Know now?"

"You're not –" Captain Warson scoffed, then stopped suddenly. He looked up at her in growing horror. "Captain Swan?"

She contemplated him a moment. "Since I'm feeling exceptionally generous today,  _Captain_  Warson, I'll offer you a choice. You can challenge me to a duel and fight for this ship and its crew…" she left a pause to make it clear that was the expected course of action. "Or you can surrender immediately and I'll set you and your crew free on the first random island I find… after taking every valuable thing on this ship, of course."

The smug grin that made Emma want to punch this guy in his sensitive spot crossed his face. She could have danced for joy but schooled her face into an impassive face. He was going to jump for it and underestimate her, even in spite of her reputation. The blonde curls did tend to mislead the majority of people.

Emma made them all pay badly for that particular mistake.

"I'll take your fight,  _wench_ ," Warson hissed loudly, to the approval of his sailors who roared support. "How much of a challenge can a puny girl present?"

Emma sighed. "Somehow, you manage to make the combination of being cocky and a pussy look unattractive." Her own pirates laughed uproariously. "Let's get on with it then."

The crews of all three ships formed a small circle around a cleared area of deck. Emma stripped off her long coat, tightened the silken sash around her waist and drew her sword from its scabbard on her belt. Across the circle, Warson was still in full uniform, as though he didn't expect even to break a sweat.

"Arrogant son of a bitch," she muttered.

"His loss, darling," Hook had snuck up behind her. "I bet you can't finish him in less than one minute."

"Usual terms?" Emma asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Hook grinned. "I'll have your Quartermaster keep the time and everything."

Emma met Warson in the middle of the circle, the slightest hint of swagger in her walk. She was going to finish this cocky young boy and she was going to finish him for good. Warson leered at her and then thrust forward in a sudden attack, with no warning. Emma's razor sharp reflexes saved her as she darted out of the way and twisted her sword underneath his. It almost slipped out of his grip but Warson appeared to grasp it firmly again just in time.

She allowed a feral smile to cross her features. Ten seconds had passed, and already a slip-up that almost cost him the duel. Emma began to pace around Warson in a circle like a lion corners its prey. "I'm curious," Emma said, probing his defences for the first time. Weak as a new-born baby, he was just quick enough to catch her blade on his pommel. "I know you've heard of me, yet for some reason you didn't fear me. Tell me, why was that?"

"The only female pirate Captain on the high seas. Of course you're famous." Warson scoffed. "Fame is usually misleading. I'm pretty sure the pirate that led the attack during the Barricade of the Bluebottle was a man with blonde dreadlocks."

Quick as a flash, Emma dealt him matching slashes across his thighs and he sank to the deck, groaning as blood spurted out of his legs. "Funny. I seem to remember maiming dear Admiral Stone with a similar technique during Bluebottle."

"I spared him." Emma lifted her sword above Warson's head. "But I won't spare you." She brought it down sharply, severing his head from his neck and watching silently as it rolled across the deck. "He's good and dead." Emma said shortly to Stone.

"You can take what you like," Stone nodded to her. "As long as you leave the ship, the crew and myself."

Emma nodded. "Our Quartermasters should nearly be finished with the division of loot."

As if by cue, Snow approached her with a smile. "Baelfire and I-" The Captain whirled around and pierced her with an icy stare. Snow hastily corrected herself. "Hook's Quartermaster and I have reached a reasonable decision regarding the splitting of loot." Emma nodded vacantly, watching a sailor pick up the severed head of Warson from the deck. "Oh, and Emma?"

"Yes?" She answered, head snapping up to her own Quartermaster.

"Don't worry," Snow grinned. "We left you and Hook to bargain for the contents of the armoury. He's waiting to discuss it in your quarters, I believe. The  _Blade_  is all but empty otherwise. Charming and the  _other_  Quartermaster got into a new disagreement on the Jolly Roger and Granny got out the special rum. You two should have a few hours to yourselves for your…  _negotiation._ "

As always, Emma refused to take the bait. "Thanks. You'll save me some rum, right?"

"As long as you're sated by the time we get to Tortuga."

" _Snow!"_

Emma turned her back on her Quartermaster and headed towards her own ship. Somebody helpful had set down the gangplank so there was an easy access point between  _The Bloody Blade_ and  _The Merry Maiden_. She crossed it easily to step down on her own beautifully worn deck.

Snow had been truthful, it was deserted. Emma took a second to inspect any damage that might have been inflicted on her beautiful ship but finding nothing serious, she descended the steps to her quarters.

He was waiting for her. Sprawled over her bedspread, sword and hat on the nearby chair, cocky smile placed firmly on his face. "You took a minute and a half to finish off Warson. I won."

"Ass," she told him vehemently. "Sit up then. And wipe that grin off your face."

He scooted to the end of the bed, legs splayed wide open and the shady, expectant grin still firm on his lips. Emma rolled her eyes and placed her palms on his knees, sliding them upwards until she could feel tense thigh muscles beneath her skin. The move brought her lips within centimetres of his and she waited, teasing him…

With a sudden growl, he flipped her so fast the world spun and she was on her back being pressed into the bedspread by his heavy weight. "Whores are less of a tease."

"You like the challenge," she taunted right back but was abruptly cut off by the press of his lips. She chuckled against them and wound her fingers in his long hair, absentmindedly noticing that it needed a trim. She clenched her fist down hard, pulling painfully on the strands in her grasps. His surprised gasp provided her with the perfect opening to snake her tongue into his mouth.

Hook took it in his stride, reaching a hand between their bodies to loosen the knots on the soft leather that bound her breasts in place. It fell away from her chest and he pulled away from her mouth to suckle at her chest, covered only by a thin white shirt.

"If I recall Swan," he murmured, switching from right to left. "I saved your life  _and_  won the bet, so you owe me twice over."

"Ass," she repeated, rolling them over once again so that she was on top.

Emma pressed a hand to his torso, applying enough pressure to pin him firmly down to the bed. She leaned forward to caress the shell of his ear with her tongue, so far that her breasts almost spilled out of her shirt. He moaned lustfully at the eyeful, knowing that it pissed her off. Emma rewarded him by nipping hard at his earlobe. "Ouch, Swan!"

"Shut up, then," she ordered, moving down, lapping first at his clavicle and then mapping a path down his torso with her tongue. He continued to whine and groan as she dipped into his navel but she tuned it out as she always did. Emma's hands, which had been busily pulling and pushing at his leather breeches in the meantime, finally succeeded in pulling them down and off his legs.

"I've finally decided what I'm going to buy you for your birthday," Emma commented as she wrapped her hand around his pulsing length.

Hook groaned. "For my 285th? What would that be then, lass? I'm still holding out for anal sex…"

"I'm saving that for your 300th." Emma winked from her position. "Pants that don't take ten minutes to get rid of," she answered, bending her neck to suck his cock into her mouth and slid downwards until he was fully enveloped. His hips bucked beneath her and she slowly began to suck softly.

Emma slid back up his length, leaving dampened skin in her wake until she could flick her tongue across the head and then sucked down once again until her nose was reacquainted with his balls.

"Emma," he choked out. Recognising the signs of an oncoming orgasm like an old friend, Emma radically increased the pressure until she was sucking hard. With a yell, he came and she drank down his seed, licking the last of it off her lips with a seductive flick of her tongue.

He growled down at her with a predatory expression and the Captain could barely contain a little shiver of excitement. Hook was at his best like this, savage and virile, taking no prisoners. Not for the first time, she blessed all of her Gods for his fast recovery time. She shimmied back up his body and found her lips captured in a passionate kiss. Emma nipped down viciously, knowing it would only serve to turn him on further.

It worked. With another animalistic snarl, he flipped them over once again and rutted against shamelessly. Only the last barrier between them, her breeches, stopped him from penetrating her completely. His hands grabbed at the hem, pulling desperately but she slipped out from him, rolling off the bed and dancing away to the opposite wall.

"You'll have to fight me for them," she told him with a shit-eating grin on her face, blonde curls scattered all over her naked back and chest.

He bounded off the bed towards her. "I do have help," he held his steel hook aloft and she shuddered in arousal. Hook reached for her wrists with his good hand and lifted them above her head to pin her to the wall, hard. With his hook, he made several precise and accurate cuts, severing her breeches from her body. Suddenly, he used his foot to kick her legs apart and she would've fallen had it not been for his firm hands pinning her there.

"Come on then, Hook," she taunted him. "Don't you  _deserve_  it? As my  _saviour_?"

He chuckled against her skin. "Remind me why I let you leave my crew?"

Emma grinded uselessly against his hips, searching uselessly for friction against her centre. "Because you knew I would have led the inevitable mutiny."

With a final gasp, he sank into her, mouthing and nipping at her neck. She let a rare sigh of relief escape from her lips. Mercifully, he seemed to have had enough of teasing her and kept his thrusts continual and frequent. Every time he slammed back inside her, she shivered in pleasure as her back scraped against the rough wood of her cabin.

Reaching between her legs, Hook rubbed his thumb over her bundle of nerves in the pattern she liked best and it sent her tumbling over the edge, her internal muscles clamping wildly and causing his second orgasm, spilling deep inside her.

Emma's eyes fluttered open again after she had a chance to regain her breath and watched as Hook toyed with the charm that hung on the chain around her neck. "Do you think you'll ever take that charm off?"

The Captain frowned at him and eased herself away, walking on wobbly legs over to the bedspread where she sat with a thump. "I doubt it. Another pregnancy is low down on my list of priorities."

Hook flopped down on the bed beside her and lay on his back. "The first was two hundred and fifty years ago."

She sighed, rolling on her stomach to look him in the eye. "Why are you pushing this, Hook? If you've heard something from the Lost Boys…"

"No," he hastened to reassure her. "The last I heard he was still with them. Frozen as a five-year-old. Unaware of time passing."

"Are you  _trying_  to make me feel guilty?" She demanded to know. "I gave up my son to give him his best shot. I was a  _cabin girl_  on your pirate ship. Even ending up with the Lost Boys was a better fate than ending up with me."

Hook sat up, locking eyes with her intently. "I'm going to drop this, I promise. But just tell me, do you  _ever_  feel curious? You're the Captain of your own ship now, love. You could do it."

Emma slowly shook her head. "No, I couldn't. The immortality spell on both of our ships prevents aging, remember? I'd have to leave the ship to raise the baby, and get older myself in the process. It's just a very bad idea, all round." Then she kissed Hook again, desperately, and grasped wildly at any opportunity to deflect the conversation. "So, let's negotiate about that armoury…"

 


	2. Stole the Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Characters/Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Emma Swan/Captain Hook, Emma Swan/OFC, Snow White/Prince Charming, Belle/Rumplestiltskin, assorted other characters.  
> Warnings: (this chapter) – Prostitution.  
> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”_

 

Captain Swan was half-dressed when there was a loud banging on the door to her cabin. She pulled on a spare pair of breeches to replace the pair that Hook had cut open before opening it. “Yes?” She asked, somewhat impatiently, as her Boatswain, Charming, took in her appearance with a frown. Granted, a loose shirt and breeches were slightly more revealing than her usual attire but it wasn’t like she hadn’t swum naked in the sea every morning for the last two hundred years.

”We’ll be docking in Tortuga in an hour or two,” Charming said hurriedly, his eyes firmly fixed on a spot just above Emma’s forehead. She opened her mouth to issue some order when the sudden placement of a large, warm hand on her hip shocked the words away.

“Thanks mate,” Hook’s voice, right by her ear, was warmer than usual, the tone he took on to screw with people. Wonderful. “We’ll be up on deck just as soon as…” Emma felt his hand travel upwards from her hip, bunching up her shirt to reveal several inches of skin.

The Captain rolled her eyes and swatted away the hand. “I’ll be at the wheel to take the ship into port in two minutes, Charming.”

“Yes, Captain.” The poor man turned tail and ran, trotting quickly back up towards the deck.

Hook’s body heat withdrew from behind her as he went to fasten his belt, the only piece of clothing he had yet to put back on, unlike Emma who was barely decent. She considered chewing him out, but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. “Here,” she tossed him his hat and he flipped it on backwards, eliciting a laugh from her lips.

“Until we meet again, Captain,” Hook bowed deeply and mockingly, and then stepped forward to sweep her up in a long, affectionate kiss.

Emma pushed him away, both palms flat on his torso. “Bullshit. I’ll see you in the tavern tonight. Get back to your crew, asshole.”

“You wound me, Swan,” Hook paused by the door. “Next time we should make sure Charming catches us in the act.” He darted through the exit before Emma’s boot, the closest hard object she had to hand, hit him where it hurt.

“Ass,” she muttered fondly to herself, tugging on the boot that she’d lobbed across the room.

It was late evening when Emma emerged on deck, fully clothed at last. Charming was at the wheel, but the deck was otherwise deserted. He smiled at her when she appeared, offering her the command once more. Emma took it, wrapping long-calloused hands around the spokes of her ship.

Instead of going down to Snow’s bunk, as she’d expected, Charming leant back against the railings of the ship. Emma winced. Despite her captaincy and their lack of anything resembling a familial relationship, she was never quite able to forget that she and Charming shared blood. On occasion, he remembered too and did foolhardy things like trying to save her from a life of sin and plunder. God, she hoped that wasn’t one of these occasions.

“I know I have no right to be telling you what to do –“ he began softly, but Emma cut straight through him.

“No, you don’t,” she eyed him fiercely. “And I’ve been fucking Hook since long before we were reunited so I don’t think it’s going to do me any harm now.”

It was testimony to the detached nature of their father-daughter relationship that he didn’t even flinch at her crude words. “I just want you to be happy, Emma. I was alone too, for a hundred years before I found you again. I know how hard it is.”

Emma snorted, keeping her eyes on the ocean. “Please do not preach me your life story. It’s hardly an inspirational one. Born a Prince of Neverland, where nobody ever ages. Sponsored in the Summerlands where you were spoilt beyond the point of no return. Came of age and went home, and then seventy years later, having learned sod all in that time, you knocked up a peasant in the lower town, who gave birth to yours truly.” Emma’s voice took on a bitter tone. “Then, your _father_ decided to sponsor his illegitimate granddaughter in Tortuga – infamous home of pirates, whores and thieves and what did you do to stop it? _Fuck all_.”

Charming, whose face had grown increasingly thunderous during her recital, protested loudly. “I went looking for you! I was disinherited, _for you_!”

Emma shook her head slowly. “Too little, too late. By then I was already pregnant, working as a cabin girl on Hook’s ship. So the next time you want to preach me the virtues of happiness and companionship, remember that _you_ were the one who abandoned me and _Killian_ was the one who took me in.”

Her father spluttered a little, but it was clearly he had nothing else to say. Her voice, which had gone cold, softened. “You’re a good Boatswain, Charming. But you’re not my father. Go and find Snow. I’m sure she’ll lick your wounds.”

And then, mercifully, he left. Trotting down the staircase to the barracks of the ship; he looked back regretfully, but Emma kept her eyes on the horizon.

It wasn’t that much further to Tortuga now and the Captain sighed gratefully as she finally brought her _Bloody Blade_ into dock at the port. Grumpy, whom someone had evidently let loose from the brig, was first across the gangplank to shore and Emma had to fight back a laugh at his enthusiasm. For some strange reason, he was the only one of the seven brothers who possessed any kind of sex drive. The whores in Tortuga were fine enough (she should know) but Emma was sure that Grumpy’s enthusiasm for a particular individual by the name of Nova was unrivalled.

“I heard that you ripped into Charming,” said a quiet voice from behind her and taken by rare and total surprise, Emma whirled around, her hand on her sword hilt.

It was Snow. Of course. Despite her tenure on _The Bloody Blade_ being comparatively brief (twenty five years, compared to Emma’s two centuries), she was very adept at confrontation. Perhaps it came of being Quartermaster, almost as powerful as a Captain, Emma mused, then realised than Snow was awaiting an answer. “Sorry?” She said, running a hand through her hair absentmindedly.

“I was just saying,” replied the other woman with her trademark saint-like patience. “Bitterness is a terrible burden to carry. And yet you almost seem to embrace it. My father abandoned me too, but I’ve never met him, let alone talked to and given him orders every day. How do you do it?” Snow paused, then rephrased. “ _Why_ do you do it?”

Emma smiled wryly. “I see it isn’t my day for escaping personal conversations. I do it because my Boatswain is not my father. He’s Charming – a competent, vicious pirate whom I trust and count on. My father is just some asshole who abandoned me on Tortuga when I was less than a week old. In my eyes, they’re two totally separate people, understand?”

Snow nodded hesitantly. “But compartmentalising the two can’t be healthy for you, Emma.”

For once, she chose to ignore the use of her first name. “Tell you what, I’ll let you and Charming use my Quarters tonight if you let me leave the ship without saying anything else personal or invasive.”

“Seriously?” Snow raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to bribe me to leave you alone?” Emma nodded, silently confused as to why Snow would be surprised by that. “Okay.” Her step-mother agreed, stepping out of her path to the gangplank. “But this conversation isn’t over!”

Emma grabbed her hat from where it rested on the spokes of her wheel and left the ship via gangplank with a sigh of relief. She loved her crew, she really did, but doubted that any male pirates had the kind of problems she did. Why were they all so interested in her life? It had been an extremely long one, with several dull periods stretched between the exciting and all-too-brief major events.

She shook her head and attempted to forget about the invasive conversations she’d had with her father and his wife. Tonight was going to be about getting very drunk and getting laid. But first, she double checked the security of the large sack of gold that was strapped to her back, she had to visit her merchant.

It was late, Emma knew, but Gold never restricted himself with anything so mundane as opening hours. And as far as she knew, he rarely frequented the many local taverns. There was a good chance –

Then the door swung open and she was greeted with the face of her navigator, whose body was wrapped only in a semi-translucent robe.  “Belle?” She asked incredulously. “What the he-“

“My apologies,” came a smooth voice from behind the mollified woman who stood at the door in front of her Captain. “Miss French and I were just becoming re-acquainted. You were at sea for many months, Captain Swan… ergo I assume you came for supplies?”

Emma blinked. “That’s right.”

Gold’s snake-like face whispered something in Belle’s ear and she nodded once. “Can we talk later, Captain?”

“Looking forward to it,” she replied, with the inflection in her voice that when they _did_ talk, what Belle said had better be pretty damn good. Shooting her one last embarrassed look, Belle disappeared into a door off the side of the hallway.

Gold led her through to the backroom where he did the majority of his trade. As usual, it was full of the odd little trinkets that gave this particular merchant his oddball character. But what Emma wanted were standard supplies.

After detailing exactly what she wanted, Emma took a seat on a convenient chair as Gold collected her items from storage. She tried to wrap her mind around what she had seen. Belle, most likely recently naked, in the house of _Gold_ of all people. Was he _paying_ her? But Belle was no common whore. She had petitioned to join Emma’s crew about fifty years ago, the well-educated daughter of a duke in the Springlands. Emma had needed a navigator, so she’d said yes. The Captain hadn’t been particularly curious about the girl’s past; a simple check had told her all she needed to know. Daddy had kicked out his little girl for sleeping with the wrong kind of man so she’d stolen all of his money.

It was the kind of behaviour Emma heartily encouraged so she’d welcomed Belle aboard.

Perhaps Gold was indeed ‘the wrong kind of man’. Maybe Belle wasn’t screwing him for money, but for love?

Emma’s musings were interrupted by the return of the merchant himself. “It’ll be ready for collection in the morning. I trust you’ll be sending the usual men down to collect it? I’ll make sure your navigator’s long gone by that time.”

“Sure,” she replied easily. “How much?”

“The total, with your _special discount_ ,” Gold sneered at her poisonously. “460 gold pieces.”

“Ah Gold,” Emma sighed. “And here I was, sure you could do me one better.”

“And why would that be? I already halved your price.” He kept it calm, cool, but Emma was sure that his legendary temper couldn’t be too far off.

“Well,” Emma tasted the word and grinned at approaching victory. “You agreed to halve my price as long as I told nobody of your true identity. But that was when you cared for nothing and nobody; only about preserving your own life against the inevitable raging mob if anybody found out who you really were. Now, you could lose Belle if she knew that your true name…” Emma leant forward to hiss her words in Gold’s ear. “… was Rumplestiltskin.”

“Evil whore!” He screeched and she withdrew rapidly, flinching at the volume of his noise. “Just because you birthed my bastard grandson, you do not have the right to blackmail me! I could kill you for your insolence!”

“But you won’t,” Emma shook her head. “Because then you’d ruin any chance of your son reuniting with you. Not to mention you’ve thrown Belle into the stakes as well. How do you think she’d feel if she found out that you murdered her dear Captain?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head side to side, slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe his predicament.

“Just half it again,” Emma sighed. This day had been far too long for her liking. “It’s not like it makes any difference to you anyway. You spin _gold_ for a hobby.”

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. “That’ll be 230 gold pieces, then, Captain Swan.” Emma threw him a leather sack containing the bulk of it, then counted out the remaining thirty.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Gold.” Emma rose from her seat. “Do return my navigator when you’re done defiling her.”

“Don’t push it, Swan,” he growled back, showing her to the door and slamming it viciously behind her. Emma winced in sympathy for Belle, doubtlessly waiting in his bedchamber. She was in for a surprise at Gold’s redoubled nastiness.

Thankfully it was only a short walk from Gold’s house to her old haunt, _The Snake’s Sceptre_. God knew she could really use a drink or three by now. Emma pushed open the door and revelled in the waiting warmth. Settling into a bar stool with a relieved groan, the Captain was surprised to find her drink of choice pushed across the counter. Unhesitating, she gripped the large tankard and downed at least half of it in one go. Then and only then did she raise a questioning eyebrow at the bartender.

“Woman over there, Capt’n,” the long familiar face told her, indicating a hooded figure sitting alone in a booth. “Jus’ asked what you usually drank an’ wanted to put it on ‘er tab. She also said some bullshit about wanting to talk to you about some diplomatic crap. If she ain’t some royal tart, I’m a fucking pig’s bollocks.”

Emma downed the rest of her tankard. “Thanks, Stan. Can I get a refill?”

“You got it, Capt’n.” Her drink topped up to the brim once again, Emma made her way through the bustling and heavy throng, finally dropping into a seat just opposite the woman who’d bought her the drink.

They sat in a moment’s silence before Emma deduced that she was the one expected to break it. “Thanks,” she indicated her tankard. “For the drink.”

“It didn’t take you long to knock it back, I noticed,” the woman replied. Her voice held the inflection of one who’d been taught to talk very properly. It was also slightly more gravelly than Emma had been expecting; somebody in disguise perhaps, or maybe just an older woman. But what the hell did this mysterious female want with her?

Her hooded companion seemed to almost read her mind. “I need a service from you.”

Emma sighed and sat back in her seat. She had almost hoped after a least a century of infamy that she was rid of this shit. “I’m a pirate, lady, not a whore. And as much as you might want to rebel from your privileged little life, wanting to fuck a pirate is not the right way to go about it.”

“Unfortunately I don’t share your proclivities, Captain Swan.” The woman snapped back. “And the kind of service I require from you takes longer than an hour and needs more of you than your fingers and sharp little tongue.”

Emma’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Whoever this woman was, she evidently was neither young nor vacant nobility. Perhaps Stan’s assessment of her identity, which Emma had brushed off, had been right. Maybe she _was_ dealing with royalty. “Alright then. What _service_ ,” she put emphasis on the term, “would you like from me?”

The hooded woman leant forward, lacing her fingers together as if to prepare herself to tell a story that she had recited many times before. “About five years ago, I arranged a marriage between my daughter and a very powerful, wealthy man. I knew she was upset about the match; she was only seventeen years of age and he was over forty years her senior. It was a marriage that was essential for our family and I believed that my daughter understood that.”

Emma interrupted. “This is gonna be a whole lot easier to remember if you give me names, places… that kind of thing.”

The woman paused and the Captain was willing to bet good money that she was frowning at her beneath that hood. “If I reveal myself, you must swear not to identify me to anybody else on this godforsaken island. It is of the utmost importance.”

“I swear,” Emma promised, her curiosity aroused.

The woman lifted her hood just slightly, enough to reveal her face and hair to Emma without showing anybody else in the tavern. Emma just about managed to quell a gasp but fighting the surprise off her face was an impossible task. “I won’t bow and give you away but what in holy hell is the _Queen of Springlands_ doing in a tavern in Tor-fucking-tuga? Talking to a _pirate_?”

The now re-hooded Queen leant further forward and growled in her most un-ladylike moment yet. “Keep your voice _down,_ pirate! And to avert suspicion, you will address me as Cora while we are in this public place surrounded by ruffians.”

Emma drew in a long breath and let it out, processing for a moment. “Okay, Cora. So about your daughter… hang on. I think I heard about this when I was last in the Springlands which would have been…” she screwed up her features. “Four years ago. Your daughter… her name’s Regina, right? Princess Regina? She was supposed to marry King Leopold of Winterlands, but didn’t she run away?”

“To Neverland. Boarded the first ship she could find.” Cora confirmed bitterly. “I’ve tried everything I can think of. Huntsmen. Astrologers. Adventurers. Young Princes burning to rescue lost Princesses. Nobody has succeeded.”

Emma nodded, as if coming to her own conclusions. “A pirate is your last resort.” She reclined in her seat. “I’ll do it. But I expect to be well-compensated. And I want to know why you’re asking me. Most people pass me up because I have tits.”

Cora sighed. “And every time I think you’re a little less common than most pirates, you go and prove me wrong. I’m asking you because my father-in-law, King Xavier, always spoke highly of the services you performed for him. As I understand it, you retrieved a valuable family artefact.” The Queen paused a moment before adding her final reasoning. “I also know that there are very few pirates that will risk a journey to Neverland, and you’re one of them.”

Emma ran a hand through her lengthy blonde curls. Something about the whole situation didn’t quite sit right, but she discarded it. That morning, she’d beheaded a young man. Returning a Princess to her fiancée would hardly be the worst of her crimes. In addition, it would be a good challenge, the likes of which she hadn’t had in a long time. For some reason, it had become unnecessary to continue to prove herself on the high seas somewhere around her 150th birthday.

“That compensation,” Emma pressed. “How much?”

“In the spirit of fairness,” Cora murmured from under her hood. “I’ll offer you the same as all the others I’ve sent hunting my daughter. 50,000 gold pieces on her safe return. 5,000 for her body, if you find her dead.”

Emma whistled. “That _is_ fair.”

“What do you say, Captain?” Cora wanted to know. “Do we have an accord?”

The blonde shook the hand of her companion with a triumphant expression. She was about to suggest she bought Cora a celebratory drink when the other woman slid a leather bound journal across the table towards her. “I need to leave, my ship back to the Springlands leaves in less than 30 minutes, but first you’ll need that book. It contains every piece of information I’ve heard about Regina’s current whereabouts since her disappearance five years ago. There are also drawings of her in there so you’ll be able to recognise her when you do find her.”

Emma nodded, pocketing the journal in her overcoat for detailed perusal later on.

“One final thing, Captain,” Cora told her. “You have four months until I send somebody else out. When you have my daughter in your possession, please send a messenger to me and I will meet yourself and my Princess at the docks of Port Wordsworth in the Springlands.”

“Understood, your Majesty,” Emma nodded once. Cora slid out of the booth and strode away into the night, being greeted by a bulky man who had been waiting at the entrance. Her guard, Emma guessed. Even royalty wasn’t arrogant enough to walk into a Tortugan tavern without any precaution whatsoever.

The pirate watched as the Queen of Springlands strode away into the distance, then reclined once more. It was a good job that she had just resupplied because _The Bloody Blade_ and its crew had a very long journey ahead.

 

It didn’t take very long to find Hook.

Emma hadn’t left Evermore in almost half a decade and Hook had borrowed her beautifully detailed maps of Neverland long ago for his own agenda. She would need them, as well as a little magic, if she wanted to arrive in Neverland in a timely fashion. Hence, she needed to find her old Captain, the usual provider of such objects.

The key to finding Hook was to think like him; and as their needs were not so different anymore, Emma considered her own. What did she really feel like right now? _A hot bath with a naked companion._

Her feet seemed to know the answer before she did and redirected her on a path toward an extremely old haunt. _Blue’s_. Maybe the most infamous brothel at the port, it was where she’d met Hook… 256 years ago. It had also been where she’d met the father of her child, and screwed him, but Emma chose not to dwell on that.

The brothel was stiflingly hot, as always. Emma could never figure out if that was to encourage customers and workers to disrobe, or to encourage them to finish their business quickly. The former was a success, the latter a terrible failure.

Almost immediately on entry, there was a pretty brunette with blue-green eyes and a wide-eyed, innocent smile hanging off her arm. “ _Emma_! Blue said that you were making port tonight but nobody believed her… Emma you haven’t been here in _six months!_ I _missed_ you. Nobody ever smells as good as you – it must be that perfume you get from the Summerlands – I said I’d let you have a whole night free if you brought me some back. Did you remember Emma? _Please_ say you did –“

Emma chuckled, coming to a halt on the stairs. “The perfume’s in my satchel, Allison,” she murmured in her ear. “But first I need to talk to Hook. Do you have any idea…?”

“Where you can find him?” The girl breathed excitedly back. “Sure! He’s with Leslie tonight. Second left door on the third landing.”

Emma brushed her lips across the young girl’s cheek. “Take the satchel. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve finished with Hook.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Allison replied breathily, bounding up the stairs ahead of Emma.

The Captain followed the little minx, laughing under her breath and remembering just how much she loved Tortuga. It was a pity that now they were only going to be able to make port for one night. She was pretty sure Grumpy would never forgive her for tearing him away from Nova again so soon. But then again, she giggled quietly, Grumpy’s finances would probably embrace her in a tearful hug.

Third landing… second door… left… Aha. She’d recognise Hook’s pre-orgasm whining anywhere. Without bothering to knock, she pushed the door open and watched in amusement as Hook’s whore – was Leslie her name? – fell off him in surprise.

“Swan,” Hook growled, fitting two well-scarred hands to the whore’s hips and sitting her back on top of him. “What in the hell do you want and can it not wait five minutes?”

“Thirty seconds more like,” Emma smirked as she casually insulted him. “Go ahead. I’ll indulge my voyeuristic side while you delay my very important business.”

“Thanks,” Hook winked in satisfaction, rolling his hips upwards. The girl, Leslie, seemed to get the hint and rose upwards, to then slam her hips back down again. The burn of Emma’s eyes on their bodies must have been even more arousing, because it took a shorter time to finish than even she had predicted.

Looking thoroughly sated and windswept, Hook allowed himself a moment on his back, before climbing out of the sheets. Unashamed of his nakedness, Hook clambered into a loose pair of breeches before settling himself back down on the bedspread to face her. “So?”

“I’ve been offered a deal,” Emma smirked. “I have to find the missing Princess of Springlands and return her to her _dear_ and very elderly fiancé in exchange for a small fortune.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Hook groaned as he stretched the kinks out of his back. Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes as his whore followed the flexing muscles in his back with hungry eyes. Wasn’t it the girl’s _job_ to see naked men every day?

“Well it would be if she was in Evermore…” Emma let the tension drag out. “But her mother says that I can find her in Neverland.”

Hook grinned, crossing back over to a chair next to a small, dingy window where most of his possessions lay. “You’ll be wanting your maps back then, lass.”

“Right,” Emma replied. “And if you could spare a bean or two…”

Hook paused during his rifling search for the maps he had borrowed off Emma. “Ah,” he murmured. “That may be a little more complex than returning a borrowed item.” He withdrew a long, cylindrical container from his possessions and threw it across the room to Emma, who caught it with one hand. Then he held up a small cloth bag, just big enough to contain one or two small valuables. “My last bean.”

Emma held out her hands as if to catch it but Hook did not oblige. “There’s a hitch, lass. Beans are as rare as diamonds now, rarer in fact, considering the dwarves are still selling us their goods whereas the giants have shut up shop.” Hook frowned, as if the taste of what he was about to say sat unpleasantly in his mouth. “In return for this, I want you to retrieve Rumplestiltskin’s dagger and bring it back to me.”

The blonde Captain was vaguely aware of her jaw falling open. “The dagger which you have _failed_ to locate for two hundred and fifty years? You want me to find it, whilst also tracking down an erstwhile Princess, all in the space of four months?”

Hook tucked the purse containing the bean back into the depths of his coat, shrugging. “Those are the terms, Swan. If you don’t like ‘em, you’re going to have to take the long route to Neverland. And I know where the dagger is; I just can’t go there. My crew will mutiny against me if I try.”

“That sounds promising.” Emma sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Tell me where the dagger is, and I’ll retrieve it for you.”

In a swift, slick movement, Hook withdrew the pouch from his coat once more and chucked it across the room. Emma caught it deftly  and pocketed it. “Hollow Isle,” Hook almost seemed to savour the words. “He hid the dagger on Hollow Isle.”

“Hollow Isle… _in the middle of the Sea of Monsters?_ Are you _insane?_ ” Emma demanded. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time we journeyed to the Sea of Monsters?”

“It’s hard to forget losing almost everything you have.” Hook commented. “Will you do this for me or not?”

Emma sighed. “Yes. But only because my crew is so much more obliging than yours.” Maps and bean now firmly in possession, she made to move towards the door. “I think that these next four months will be the price for the last thirty years of peace.”

Hook was already distracted by his whore, who had recaptured his attention, but managed to regain the decorum to answer her. “Aye, lass, but don’t you feel alive again?”

He’d always known her too well, Emma grumbled to herself as she descended the stairs back down to the second landing. Did he know that right now, her nerve endings were tingling from the small of her back to the tips of her extremities? That her stomach was tightening in anticipation. That her lips kept quirking in excitement every time she considered the challenges ahead of her?

Emma stopped on the second landing, a genuine smile crossing her face. If she was going to be on her adventures for the next four months, she might as well enjoy her last night on land. With that thought, she knocked briefly on the third door along, before pushing it open and finding Allison lying on the bedspread, twiddling her thumbs.

“Emma!” The young brunette breathed, bouncing off the mattress and stealing her pirate’s hat. She placed it on her head at a jaunty angle and beamed at the Captain. “What do you think?”

“You’re too adorable to be a pirate,” Emma growled back with underlying affection, scooping her up and throwing her back on the mattress. Allison squealed in surprise. “Guess where I’m making port next, Allie?”

“Are you going back to the Summerlands?” She asked, watching the blonde with wide eyes as she lowered her lips to the pale skin of the brunette’s neck.

“Sadly, no,” Emma shook her head. “Guess again.” Her trail of kisses ended when Allison, in a surprising show of strength, rolled them over so she was on top. “Nu-uh Swan; you brought me perfume, it’s my turn to return the favour. Are you going… to the Springlands?”

“Not yet,” her breath hitched as Allison’s mouth descended further down her body. “But soon. Try again.”

Allison latched onto a nipple, which she toyed with as she contemplated her next guess.  “The Autumnlands? Their new Queen is very powerful, I heard.”

“No,” Emma laughed throatily as arousal burned fiercely below. “Anyone would be better than old King Walden; he was an incompetent bastard.”

“And he outlawed pirates,” Allison giggled, nipping her way down Emma’s stomach. “As if that would stop them.”

“As if, indeed,” Emma murmured, her breath hitching at the first touch of the whore’s tongue to her centre. “One more guess then, Allie.”

“Winterlands,” Allison murmured into the Captain’s folds and she shuddered at the sensation.

“Wrong again,” she hissed as a tongue flicked over her clit. Then one… two… three slim fingers slid inside her and Emma was gone, twisting her fists in the sheets, her hips bucking. Allison crawled up beside her as she came down from her high and nuzzled her nose in Emma’s neck.

Emma sighed in satisfaction at the press of their bodies together. “Neverland. I’m going to Neverland.”


	3. From Her Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines. This is the last chapter to be without Regina's shining grace!
> 
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

 

_“Of all the delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very nearly real. That is why there are night-lights. ”_

 

Captain Swan oversaw the final loading of the supplies into the hold of  _The Bloody Blade_ with something approaching adrenaline; which was odd as she had never before experienced such a kick from watching salted bacon being heaved on board a ship.

Much to her surprise, Hook had come to see her off. He was definitely not the sentimental type from anybody's perspective, but once in a while he displayed a rare soft spot. Emma appreciated and admired her old Captain, but often missed the emotionally raw and affectionate man she had first met two and a half centuries ago, four months pregnant and desperate to escape her miserable life. These rare moments of sentimentality were all that was left of the man who had been stolen by Rumplestiltskin.

Then of course, he ruined her reminiscence with a typically perverse remark. "Try not to die on your little quest Swan; I don't know anybody else who's willing to wager oral sex instead of money."

"That's because nobody else is quite as willing to put up with your shit as I am," Emma commented, trying to do a mental roster of her crew. Charming and Snow... present. Granny… yep. Red… still pulling her shirt on and rubbing her eyes blearily but definitely present. The last of the cargo was rolled onto the ship by Charming and the Dwarves and Emma watched as the final preparations for setting sail were completed.

"See you in a couple of months then, Killian," Emma offered him her forearm for clasping.

Killian grasped it. "Silly wench," he muttered, sneaking an arm around her waist and gathering her up for a perfunctory kiss on the lips. "I won't miss you."

The blonde Captain doffed her hat at him. "I won't miss you either."

And with that farewell and his distant salute, Emma boarded her ship, ready to set sail on her new adventure, veins piping adrenaline all around her body.

Red, her Master Gunner, caught up to her the second her well-polished boot stepped on to the wooden deck. "We've got a problem, Captain." Emma's heart sank through her previously-mentioned, well-polished boot and into the water below. A 'problem' by Red's standards was the last thing she needed on the dawn of a voyage as great as this one.

"What's the problem?" Emma asked her Master Gunner, mentally preparing herself for the worst. Damage to the ship from the battle yesterday? Maybe after two hundred years of Emma's ambitious schemes, the crew had thrown in the towel and organised a mutiny?

Red bit her lip. "It's Grumpy. He's refusing to leave port without Nova."

A long relieved sigh escaped Emma's lips. Grumpy, she could deal with. "Nova? As in the whore, Nova? She wants to join the crew?"

Red contained her own smile at Emma's incredulous tone. The relationship between Grumpy and his whore, Nova, was a long-standing joke on board  _The Bloody Blade_. In the last decade, from the moment the ship docked in the harbour at Tortuga until the moment the anchor was raised, Grumpy would be in the company of Nova. Emma, being the sensitive sort of soul she was, assumed that the girl was merely a fantastic lay. But if Grumpy wanted to bring her with him on board… well, that could only lead to trouble.

"Can you send him into my quarters when you find him, please Red?" Emma asked distractedly, already halfway down the stairs. "And tell the crew we'll set sail as soon as I've dealt with this…  _issue_."

"Absolutely, Capt-" But the rest of the girl's words were lost as Emma slipped into the relative peace and sanctity of her Quarters. Her bedspread was still rumpled from her activities with Hook the previous day and Emma set about fixing that first; smoothing the sheets and straightening the thin covers. She was more or less impervious to the cold but in the dead of winter in the truest of northern seas, blankets did tend to come in handy.

As Emma finished her small relapse into past domesticity, there was a knock at the door. Grumpy, she guessed. "Come in!" The blonde yelled loudly, seating herself with a thump on her desk, the transaction records from Gold making a curiously comfortable cushion.

Grumpy entered. From a single analytical glance at his face, Emma could tell that she was in trouble. Any pirate worth their salt could tell the willingness to take no prisoners in someone's features and that was what she was looking at now. Mind you, taking no prisoners was how this particular pirate approached life in general, so perhaps she shouldn't be so concerned.

"I want Nova to join our crew," the dwarf said determinedly, with no preamble whatsoever.

Emma wiggled a little. It felt like she was sitting on something very uncomfortable. "And is that what Nova wants?" She asked, sliding off the desk and turning her back to Grumpy in order to rifle through the paperwork.

"She  _wants_  to be with me," Grumpy said, sounding insulted at her insinuation that he was forcing her on board. "And if that means joining a pirate ship, she'll do it."

Emma finally located the uncomfortable object – her grindstone. Clambering back on to the table, she flipped it over in her hands. "You know, despite their general respectability, there are eleven other men on this crew and out of all of them, only Charming is immune to whores."

"You're the Captain!" Grumpy stated indignantly. "Isn't stopping them taking advantage your  _job_?"

"It's impossible to take advantage of whores," Emma pointed out, drawing her dagger from its sheath. She ran the grindstone along its length, sharpening the blade. "Does Nova know how to fight? Does she have her own weapon?"

Grumpy glared at her. "Nova doesn't want that life anymore!"

Emma sighed, stilling the movement of the grindstone over her blade in order to fix her most disorderly pirate with a glare. "I'm going to assume that the sum of Nova's experiences with weaponry begins and ends with dicks. So I'm not going to be paying her any fresh wages. You can either split yours with her or she goes without. But I'm happy to provide basic necessities like food as long as she pulls her weight on the ship." Sensing an argument about to arise, Emma held up her hand. "That's more than fair, Grumpy. Take it or leave it."

His voice was grudging, but accepting. "Thank you," he murmured as though it pained him. Then a clash of door on wood signalled his hasty exit.

Captain Swan had just resumed sharpening her blade, the consistent up and down movements soothing her inflamed irritation, when yet another knock came at the door. "It's open," she yelled, finishing the tip of the blade with a flick of the grindstone.

Snow and Red entered, the former looking reasonably cheerful and the latter downright miserly. "We've accounted for everybody, plus one," Snow informed her. "I hear Grumpy has decided to escort his escort on board."

"You heard right," Emma said. "Bloody fools both of them. It's only a matter of time before the less respectable members of our crew decide that having a whore on board is too much of a temptation to resist and then where will we be?"

Red shuddered. "God forbid we have to get the plank out of storage. Last I heard, the termites got at it."

Emma hopped off the table and stretched out her back, hearing the kinks in her spine pop in satisfaction. Snow winced and spoke her mind. "The plank is a death sentence. It shouldn't come to that."

Their Captain shook her head, re-sheathing her dagger in her belt. "The death sentence is reserved for pirates who kill their fellows or arrange a mutiny. If the former happens over a whore, well, I will not be happy." Emma sighed at the displeasing hypothetical situation, and then changed the subject. "Are we ready to set sail?"

"Aye aye, Captain," Red saluted.

Emma grabbed an old tankard of rum from her desk, taking a long swig and smacking her lips in satisfaction. "Alrighty, then." She jammed the tankard in the large overcoat pockets specifically designed for such purposes.

Coming up on deck was always a breath of fresh air, quite literally, but the blonde Captain was so accustomed to it she didn't blink twice. Instead, she made her way to the wheel of the ship, fingering the wooden spokes that were so old and so familiar. "Hoist the anchor!" She yelled, pitching her voice so it carried across from the quarterdeck where she was standing all the way to the bow. "Lower the sails!"

The flurry of activity that followed her commands spread across the ship just like her voice. The seven Dwarves each pushing hard on round spokes used to hoist the anchor free of the sea bed. Red and Snow were releasing the sails from the main mast and the third mast respectively, while Nova assisted Belle in lowering the sails of the foremast. The wind caught and with her usual creaking groan (the  _Blade_  wasn't as young as she used to be), Emma's precious ship moved out of the harbour.

Emma had the wheel and was chasing the horizon with the usual manic grin that accompanied being allowed to sail the open sea once more. She beckoned Snow closer to her while keeping both hands on the wheel. Her Quartermaster approached and the blonde threw her the pouch containing the bean which Hook had given her. Snow caught it with deft hands.

"Lob it into the sea, as far as you can," Emma instructed, passing the Tortugan harbour walls and finding, to her joy, that other than  _The Bloody Blade,_ the sea was all but deserted. She watched with a careful eye as Snow followed her instructions, her powerful arm muscles which had been built through decades of archery, setting the bean on a long trajectory. It landed with a splash at least thirty metres away.

Emma waited in tense anticipation, smiling only when the portal was formed and refracting green light everywhere. "Here we go!" She yelled, containing a squeak as the ship tumbled over the edge of the portal and the entire pirate crew plunged down into the darkness.

Travelling through a portal was not for the weak-hearted. Nauseating. Blinding. Lightning fast. Scary as hell. Pitch-black.

No matter how many times she did jump from Neverland to Evermore and back again, Emma could never quite quell the feeling of her stomach in her mouth. Mercifully, her throwing up had stopped after the first few times. And she was glad to see, that despite half a decade having passed since her last portal jump, she hadn't lost the knack of holding down her breakfast.

Suddenly light re-entered her world. The sea was greener than it was before and Emma turned around to look back across the sea. The portal was just closing and beyond that was a shimmering translucent barrier. Neverland's version of a border. Within it, magic worked. Outside, it was extremely limited.

"Welcome to Neverland!" Emma yelled out.

"CAPTAIN! MAN OVERBOARD!" Came a roar from down on deck. The blonde quickly surrendered control of the wheel to Charming, who now boasted green-tinged skin but took it anyway. Emma raced down the steps, jumping the last three to join a gathering crowd at the port side of the ship.

"Out of the fucking way," Emma snarled, pushing her crew aside until she broke through. Grumpy looked at her, still pale and shaky from the portal hop, and pointed towards the water. Emma craned her neck over the side, shuddering with horror when she realised who he had yelled about.

An unconscious girl lay flat on her back on a piece of driftwood, floating aimlessly over the bow waves that  _The Bloody Blade_  was giving out. But the horrified expressions surrounding her were for the unmistakeably round curve of her belly. She was pregnant.

"Grumpy, Bashful," Emma ordered. "Take Doc and haul her aboard. Check her breathing and make sure there's no lasting harm. Now!"

The three Dwarves she'd mentioned hurried off to launch a dinghy on their little rescue mission. "Dopey, run and get Bug in case she needs more skilled medical care." The Dwarf jogged towards the hull to retrieve their surgeon, who spent most of his time below deck working on papers. "Sneezy and Gus – we need towels and blankets. We're got to get this girl warmed up. Get Snow to unlock the hold for you. Red, if you can ask Granny to knock up something warm. Soup, perhaps."

Emma looked around at the sailors she hadn't deployed to do tasks. "The rest of you, keep the sails full of wind and the course true. I want to get the missing Princess and go as quickly as possible, you understand." She received affirmative nods, then leaned back out over the side to check the progress of the rescue. The boat was almost at the driftwood which the pregnant girl had been floating on now.

"Nova," the Captain spotted the girl, looking out of sorts in a ratty old dress.  _We need to find her something a little more suitable_ , she thought to herself, but turned her attention back to the current matter. "A word in my cabin, please."

The girl almost tripped over herself. "Yes, Captain."

Emma descended the steps below the quarterdeck into her cabin, hearing the unsteady and uncertain footsteps of the ex-whore following behind her. Once they were encased in the familiar walls, Emma rounded on her, causing a gasp of surprise to fall from Nova's lips.

"Please understand I have nothing against whores," Emma began. "But I do object to having one aboard my ship. So a few ground rules. Firstly, I don't give a damn about who you fuck as long as you don't charge them for the privilege. Secondly, you will obey all direct orders myself, Snow, Charming or Red gives you, as we are in command on this ship. Thirdly, in exchange for our feeding and clothing you, you have to pull your weight on this ship. That means chores, mostly, as I've been led to believe you have no experience with weapons. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain." The poor girl was practically quaking in her boots and Emma rolled her eyes. No guts at all. How did someone like her go into whoring? Emma had known hundreds of whores in her time, had even worked in a brothel for a year, and she'd never met one so terrified of authority.

"Glad we got that settled," Emma murmured to herself. "You may have to wait a few hours for more suitable clothes, as our Quartermaster is currently occupied, but as soon as she's available she'll sort you out."

"Thank you," Nova spoke, with a voice like a mouse. Her Captain couldn't even bring herself to imagine her relationship with Grumpy. It was like chalk and cheese.

"Captain!" Grumpy burst through her door. "The pregnant girl! She's awake!"

Emma followed him back out the door, eager to speak to her. Pregnancy in Neverland was avoided at all costs, because nobody here ever aged, due to the same immortality spell that was on  _The Bloody Blade_ and  _The Jolly Roger_ , and which was responsible for Emma's very long lifespan of two hundred and seventy five years.

If you got pregnant in Neverland, you had to send the baby into Evermore to be sponsored by a family there. There were no children in Neverland, asides from the Lost Boys, children who had found their way back here before they had grown into adults and were colonised together on the west coast. That was where Emma's son had been living, frozen as a five-year-old, for the past 255 years.

"Captain?" Grumpy questioned from beside her. Emma shook her head and returned to reality, where the pregnant girl, still coughing and spluttering, was awake. "She says that her name is Ella."

"Hey Ella," Emma crouched down by the girl's form, using a soft voice that was seldom needed. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold and wet," the girl replied and Sneezy wrapped another blanket around her already swaddled form. "Where am I?"

Emma smiled at her, reaching out to clasp a pale, damp hand. "You're on board my ship, Ella.  _The Bloody Blade._  My name's Captain Swan."

"Oh! I'm sorry to trouble you officer!" Ella scrambled up onto her knees, but swayed in the air as though completely unbalanced. "I didn't mean to cause you any bother –"

"Ella, Ella," Emma soothed her, pressing her back downwards so the girl didn't strain herself. "We're not the navy. We're pirates."

Usually this announcement was followed by a gasp of fear, shock or horror. Sometimes it was also followed by pleas to spare lives and offers of gold. However, Ella merely sighed and closed her eyes, as though almost relieved.

This strange reaction was interrupted by Red pushing through the crowd, holding a tankard. "Hot soup!" She said triumphantly, holding it aloft and nudging several onlookers out of the way with her hips alone. Red uncorked the concoction and held it to Ella's lips. The young girl drank it down greedily, looking less pale and windswept with each gulp.

"How far along are you?" Doc asked from his position by Ella's side.

"Nearly all the way," Ella said, choking on the soup. Sneezy patted her back carefully while she regained her breath. "Thank you… it's kind of hard to keep track in Neverland." The young girl drained the last of the soup from the tankard, still shivering. But her eyes became abruptly wide. "You won't leave me back in Port Lost, will you?" Her frightened eyes searched each person, and when none would meet her eyes, she wailed and bucked frantically.

Emma was alarmed. "Ella! Calm down!" She pinned her hands on each of the girl's shoulders and pushed down hard. "Why do you want to stay with pirates rather than go back to Port Lost?"

"The father!" Ella gasped out, still bucking hard against Emma's hands and decorating her cheeks with tear stains. "He's the Navy admiral. He sent assassins out after me. He'd rather kill me and his child than have it known that he was unfaithful to his wife."

Sneezy helped Ella to sit up, carefully rubbing her shoulders to get the warmth back into her. "That explains why she was so terrified we were from the navy."

Emma ran a hand through her long, golden locks. "We're going to be returning to Evermore at some point, Ella, but I don't know how soon that'll be. You're welcome to stay with us until we go back there."

"Thank you," she breathed, leaning back into the pirate rubbing the warmth into her shoulders.

The Captain caught the eye of her Quartermaster and signalled to move away so that they could talk. She weaved her way through the crowd on deck to a deserted spot on the empty starboard. Snow joined her, leaning out, with her eyes on the horizon. The sea always had a more indigo tint to it in Neverland than it did in Evermore and it was beautiful to those who had yet to be accustomed.

"What are we going to do with her?" Snow said quietly. "She'll just be a drain on our resources."

Emma sighed. "I know, but we can't just leave her here to die. I want you to clothe her and put her in the kitchen with Granny. She'll be useful enough there."

"Aye, Captain," Snow saluted. "We're not too far from Port Lost and it's close to nightfall. Charming wants to know who you're taking with you to search for the Princess."

Emma deliberated; watching swirls of indigo silt permeate the ocean. Who to take with her? The obvious choice was Red. She was a great tracker, attractive – which helped when coercing information out of people and a feral fighter. But who would be their third? A trio of women was asking for trouble so she needed someone masculine; a typical broadsword-wielding hunk of testosterone that could overpower the Princess should it be needed. Essentially – her father. And it helped that both had lived in Neverland for long periods of time, so they spoke the language well.

"Red and Charming," Emma stated to Snow. "Which means you'll be in sole command of the _Blade_. Think you can handle it?"

"I'd be a piss-poor First Mate and Quartermaster if I couldn't, Captain," Snow pointed out. "What are your orders in your absence?"

"Fucking hell," Emma sighed. "I haven't given up command as long as I've been Captain of this ship... two centuries! Where do I begin?"

"Not entirely true," Snow pointed out. "You came down with green fever a couple of decades back. Charming and Red shared command."

"Yeah, but I was always on board to veto them," Emma replied. "Okay, disguise the ship so it's more merchant than pirate. That should keep the navy off your back. Send out a small, trustworthy group each day for supplies, but nobody that doesn't speak the language or is likely to be recognised in Port Lost. If anybody gets cabin fever, get them scrubbing the decks for a few hours."

Snow absorbed it all, nodding as Emma went along. "Worst case scenarios?"

"I'll send Red back every other day while we're still in Port Lost to reassure you. If we have to move further into Neverland, though I don't think we will, I'll send a messenger bird in the same time period." Emma squinted out at the horizon, trying to remember anything else that might be of importance. "I'm going to ask Granny to be our temporary Boatswain whilst Charming's with me – you're going to need somebody by your side that's fluent in the language. And if Grumpy petitions to be allowed a cabin rather than a hammock now that's he's shacked up with a female; stop him in his tracks."

Her piece said and done, Emma bestowed a short, perfunctory hug on her step-mother. "Take care, Emma," Snow told her. "Look after my husband."

"Look after my ship!" Emma exclaimed in reply and they both laughed before the Captain turned to walk away. She needed to make her final arrangements before disembarking.

An hour or so later, Emma descended the gangplank from her beautiful ship to the docks of Port Lost, Neverland. Despite having been away for half a decade, it still felt oddly like home. That could have been because she had been conceived here, or because technically she was a Princess of Neverland, although illegitimate. But Emma chose to believe she called Neverland home it was where she and Hook had started to become the most feared pirates in all the lands.

"So where do we start looking?" Red asked, pulling a satchel of food over her slim shoulders.

"A tavern?" Charming suggested, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Maybe a pint or two of ale will inspire us."

Emma tried not to roll her eyes and failed. "Pull your cloak up, Charming. The last thing we want is someone recognising you as King George's long lost son. And we'll start with the most likely places – estates, guilds, even nunneries; anywhere that might have taken in a runaway Princess." She spoke her instructions in Nevic, the local language, silently telling the other two to follow her example.

Mercifully her father followed her suggestion, and their search began. The fortress that oversaw Port Lost was their first call. Red showed many of the soldiers the drawing of the Princess, claiming to be searching for her 'missing sister', whilst Emma and Charming wheedled their way into the kitchen with gold coins and false claims of being missionaries from the capital of Neverland – Anise. Their search there was fruitless. None of the maids or servants bore any resemblance to the missing Princess, nor did any of the occupants of the rooms Emma and Charming invaded with unconvincing spiels about religion.

However, when they returned to the gate, they found Red in a state of frustrated excitement. "Two different soldiers recognised her, but neither could remember where from." She reported. "But I think that means we were right – the Princess is definitely here in Port Lost."

"So it would seem," Emma took the picture and studied it again, hard, though she already knew every carefully stroked pencil line. "What we really need to know is if she's still going by Regina."

"It's almost dark," Charming pointed out. "That little exercise with the fortress took us most of the afternoon and the evening. We really need to find a tavern and regroup. Shoot some ideas. That kind of thing."

"I agree," Red ran a hand through her hair. "All three of us are great at finding people, but that's generally when we have a clearer idea about who we're looking for. Let's reread that journal Cora gave you; it might give us some ideas."

"A tavern it is," Emma smiled regretfully. She'd known this would take a great deal of time, but she was here now. And she was impatient. It was past time to bring that erstwhile little Princess Regina back home again. And Emma Swan was going to take the greatest of pleasures in doing so.

* * *


	4. And Bound Her in Her Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines. Our favourite brunette is making a shining debut in this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and above all, you lost the certainty that you would win. –_ Peter Pan, JM Barrie

_The King's Feet_  was an unusual tavern. It had been named after James I of Neverland, the current King George's father, who had died after only six years on the throne when his feet had been severed by an Evermoran bastard Prince. King James hadn't been a popular King, but he had established order in Neverland – which was by no means an easy task. Rumour had it that his widowed Queen Dulcina, 390 years old and still looked the same age as Emma (who, to be fair, was pushing 280 herself), had kept the severed feet as a lucky charm.

It was a little eccentric to be sure, but what was a kingdom without lucky severed extremities?

Emma pushed open the door of the tavern and stepped inside, relieved to feel heat on her face and the low buzzing of public chatter in her ears. There was very little in the world that could calm her spirits like a large tankard of ale and the glowing atmosphere of a tavern.

"You and Charming get the drinks, I'll find us a room," Emma muttered in Red's ear, seeing that the other girl nodded in agreement before making her way past the bartender and into a passage underneath the stairwell. If memory served her correctly…

She found the door same as always at the far end of the passage. With a grin, Emma unlatched it and made her entrance as melodramatically as possible.

"Captain!" The man sitting behind the desk yelped as he jumped up, spilling ink all over the paperwork that lay on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here? It's got to have been…"

Emma smiled at her old friend. "Five years, Jefferson. And before you say anything, you never visit me either."

"I don't live on a floating vessel," Jefferson pointed out. "Why are you back in Neverland? Have you come to take back that son of yours? Stuck at five-years-old forever was a cruel fate, even for you…"

"Enough," Emma snapped. "You may not owe me any respect, but if you want to do business tonight you'll shut your mouth. And it's not your problem why I'm here; I just need to rent two rooms."

Jefferson smiled that slightly unstable grin at her, removing a decadent feather quill from his desk drawer and dipping it in his inkpot with a flourish. "May I ask who will be staying in my good inn tonight, if it doesn't  _offend_ you, Captain?"

"Firstly, I need your word that you won't disclose of our presence to the King," Emma leant over the desk and into her old friend's personal space. She dangled a small sack in front of his nose. "I'm willing to reimburse you for that small service."

"Now I  _am_  curious about your company, tonight." Jefferson hooked the drawstring of the sack around his pinkie finger and dropped it in the drawer.

"Emma Swan, Ruby Lucas and Prince David of Neverland, though I'd be happy for you to leave out the formal bits and use his surname of Nolan instead." Emma told him, ticking the three of them off on her fingers.

"Estranged son Prince David of Neverland?" Jefferson raised an eyebrow whilst he scratched in their names in his log book, then fished back into his drawer, picking out two large iron-cast keys. "Adjoining rooms on the second floor. Dinner is at eight, breakfast at nine. Last call is at three am. And Captain?" He added as she turned to exit his little office. "Try not to get into any more bar fights. The last one set me back three months of trade."

"You say that like you haven't got a nest egg the size of King George's castle."

Emma re-entered the common room of the tavern, spotting Red lounging with her elbows on the bar counter whilst Charming perched awkwardly next to her on a stool. Even after a good couple of centuries of pirating, he still became uncomfortable in these sorts of places. Emma blamed it on being raised to condemn taverns as purgatory incarnate and brothels as pure hell.

Red handed her a tankard of ale as the Captain settled herself at the bar. "Keith here was just telling me about your old days here," the younger girl teased.

"You mean when I was hiding from  _your_  father and trying to make my fortune." Emma cocked her head towards Charming. "And I had to find the last place in the world that anyone would look for an illegitimate Princess. Stripping in a tavern seemed pretty ideal…" The blonde trailed off, rethinking her words in her head.  _The last place in the world that anyone would look for a Princess…_

Meanwhile, Charming had covered his face in shame. "You became a  _stripper_  to hide from my father?" He demanded, whilst Red and Keith laughed raucously in the background.

"The Princess," Emma said, reverting to seriousness. "Where is the last place in the world anyone would look for a Princess who didn't want to be found?"

The other two stared back at her, perplexed at her reasoning. "You answered that," Red replied, her brow furrowed. "A tavern."

Emma smiled wryly. "Somehow I get the feeling that our missing Princess Regina was more desperate to hide herself away than I ever was. I had to protect my identity," the blonde admitted. "Regina had to protect her innocence."

Red stared on at her uncomprehendingly, but a light had come forward in Charming's eyes and he exhaled. "You think she's hiding in a brothel." The two pirates looked at her admiringly but the barman, Keith, who'd been listening in all this time, chuckled.

"Sweet reasoning," he commented. "But are you sure you don't just wanna get laid?"

"Why can't both be true?" Emma asked him, cocking an eyebrow and holding out her hipflask. "I'll take some rum to go, thanks."

The trio left the warmth of the King's Feet and meandered their way down the streets of Port Lost. Emma took frequent pulls on her hipflask, trying to work out which of the town's three brothels could be housing a missing Princess.  _One reasonably off the beaten track, perhaps_ , she mused. But then again, if Regina had managed to escape on a ship in a port in her homeland, the chances of her being recognised in Neverland were pretty slim.

"So where do we start?" Red asked, breaching the question that was on all of their minds. "And do we have to work our way round all the whores in Neverland to check they're not the missing Princess? Because as fun as that would be…"

"I never said she was a whore," Emma pointed out. "I only said that she was hiding in a brothel."

Red frowned at her. "How…?"

"When I was very young," Emma recounted, her boots hitting the pavement in a constant rhythm. "I lived on Tortuga. I needed money to buy passage to somewhere more respectable, so naturally the only place employing was  _Blue's_ , the brothel in Tortuga. I didn't want to sell my body for money, so I was employed to clean the place. It was grim, very grim, but paid well."

"But you didn't buy passage elsewhere, did you?" Charming asked, having previously received a very short recounting of Emma's life between being abandoned by her father and being found by him again.

"No. I met Baelfire, Hook's Quartermaster, before I'd saved up enough, fell in love and got pregnant," Emma said shortly. "Ah, here we are." She stopped underneath the stoop of the first brothel. "Now, this is what's going to happen…"

To anyone watching the door in the brothel that night, the brunette woman that entered looked very nervous and agitated, like a fish out of water. She stiffened up in a short radius of anyone exposing more than half their total skin and avoided eye contact at all costs. However, her red leather-clad body was a strange contrast to her demeanour.

The girl found the woman in charge easily enough. She fidgeted in her pocket before pulling out what looked to be a drawing. She showed it to the woman, mumbling under her breath. However, the boss shook her head, denying the nervous girl.

Less than five minutes after she had entered the establishment, Red came bursting back out again through the door to find Emma and Charming, leaning against the wall and sharing Emma's hipflask. "You can do it next time, Swan!" The girl said, frustrated. "I don't know  _why_  you insisted that I had to twitch every  _ten seconds_..."

"It makes people less suspicious," Emma shrugged. "But fine… I just thought you bore more of a familial resemblance to our missing Princess than me. Would you honestly believe that we were sisters?" Emma held up the drawing of Regina side-by-side to her face.

"No," Red admitted. "It's pretty doubtful. You've got fuck all going for you. Even Charming looks more like her than you do."

" _Thank you_ ," Emma rolled her eyes, sarcasm permeating her tone of voice strongly. "Second brothel, if you please."

Red tried the same trick again, more confident at acting nervously than before. Same result. The missing Princess had never been seen at that establishment either.

"Alright," Emma rubbed her hands together. "She has to be in this last one. Red?"

"Sure you don't want to do it?" The younger girl said, cracking a smile.

"Your Nevic accent is better than mine," Emma pointed out, giving her a playful shove towards the door.

She entered the third and final brothel, fake-twitching to create the impression of nervousness. Approaching the woman in charge, Red pulled the picture out of her front pocket. "Hello," she mumbled, pitching her voice a little higher than usual. "I'm looking for my sister Regina; she's been missing for about five years… this is her."

The woman took the drawing and studied it, a frown marring her already-lined face. "She bears a bit of a resemblance to one of our cleaners. But her name s'not Regina, it's Juno. Did your sister have a son?"

"Not when she ran away," Red replied, perplexed. If Emma's theory was correct and Regina cleaned brothels, which in Red's opinion was too big a comedown for any Princess, then the so-called Juno fit the bill perfectly. But a son would be much harder to explain away.

"Well he's a ten-year-old lad," the woman handed her photo back. "So by my reckoning, since your Regina's been missing five years, she canno' be my Juno."

"This is the last place I can look for her," Red admitted. "Can I make sure your Juno isn't my Regina?"

"You're no' wasting  _my_  time if you wanna check," the woman told her with her thick accent, shuffling off to the back room. "She'll be here in half an 'our."

"I'll wait," Red told the woman's retreating back, exiting the brothel quickly before she could be swarmed. Emma was draining the last dregs of her hipflask as Red joined the father and daughter duo. "Successful?" The Captain raised an eyebrow at her Master Gunner.

"Sort of," Red leaned against the wall next to her. "They have a cleaner named Juno, who apparently looks 'a bit like the drawing', but she has a ten-year-old son."

"A ten-year-old son in Neverland?" Emma asked, just as Charming snorted in laughter beside her.

"What?" Red demanded, looking intently at him to decipher what he thought was so funny.

"The cleaner's name is Juno?" Charming asked, still sporting a grin. Red nodded, mystified. "Regina means Queen, right? Very fitting name for a Princess. Well, in myth, Juno was the Queen of the Gods."

He was met with disbelieving stares and shrugged at his companions. "I may not be as smart as you, Emma, but I think you forget that I've been educated and you haven't."

"Gee," Emma said, irony emanating thickly through her tone of voice. "I wonder whose fault that was?"

"Enough," Red stopped the budding argument before it could even begin, holding up her hands and situating herself between Emma and Charming. "Can you two  _not_  kill each other until Juno gets here? And assuming she  _is_ the Princess, which I still doubt, what do we do about the son?"

"Shit," their Captain muttered. "Queen Cora won't like an illegitimate son, even though I highly doubt they're even related. It'll make her unmarriageable."

"Can't we use him to get her to cooperate?" Charming asked, rubbing his index finger absentmindedly over his chin scar.

"Unless our Princess is as dumb as an ox, she'll know we won't go through with our threats," Emma pondered. "Unless  _you_ want to be the one to beat up a ten-year-old."

Charming fell silent again, but Red perked up. "We could keep him," she suggested. "Act like we're doing a big favour for the Princess by giving him a job on board to protect him from Queen Cora and King Leopold. Hook has Hansel and Gretel, so it's doable."

"But even so-" Emma began, but was abruptly cut off by her father's hand against her mouth. About to shove him off and scream obscenities at him about disrespect, she noticed a woman slowly approaching an entrance to the brothel; her shuffling was being impeded by two buckets of soapy water swinging from her back. Pinning Charming with her eyes, Emma made a very clear intercept gesture.

She could almost sense the exasperation in his sigh, demoted to the muscle man once again, but her father did it well. Quick as a flash, he was in the path of the approaching cleaner. He pinned her hands behind her back and the woman screamed long and loud until he clamped a hand over her mouth. Emma felt an odd sense of guilt at the treatment of the woman; all she had wanted was an escape from a much older, greedy husband. She had even descended herself to cleaning a brothel to avoid that fate.

The Captain made herself picture the many large sacks of gold coins she would gain from this  _transaction._

Charming frogmarched the woman over to the wall, face pressed to the rough bricks and hands still pinned to her back. There was a yelp and Charming withdrew his hand, now decorated with a set of teeth marks.

"I don't have any money!" The woman spat in brusque Nevic, sounding more vicious than afraid. "Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Tell us your name first," Emma growled in her ear.

"Juno," the woman bit out, struggling wildly against Charming, who was still easily holding her down.

Emma shook her head, withdrawing from the victim of a fake mugging attack. "Wrong answer," she muttered. "You know the fool proof way of discerning someone's real identity? Turn her around."

Red and Charming looked baffled, but did as she asked. The hooded woman was roughly manhandled to face Emma. The Captain reached for the cloth hood masking the woman's face, pulling it down to her shoulders.

The woman underneath was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. In spite of the greasy build up in her hair and the ratty, cheap quality of her clothes, her natural features were striking. The wild and feral look in the woman's eyes made Emma pause, but only for half a second. Then she clenched her fist and ploughed it into the woman's soft middle. "Ouch!" The woman exclaimed, then froze. She had cried out in Latin, the language of Evermore, rather than Nevic.

"Fool proof," Emma shook her head. "Everybody uses their first language when taken by surprise."

"Nice trick," Red nodded. "But that still doesn't prove she's who we're looking for!"

The trio, still ringing the woman to make sure she didn't escape, contemplated. How could you tell the true identity of a woman if she wouldn't tell you anything? Torture was out of the question. They could use magic, but that was expensive and took time. Red had the idea of checking her palms to see how soft they were, but after five years of labour, Emma was unsurprised to see callouses.

Then Charming had his stroke of genius. "We are such idiots," he proclaimed, before rolling up his left sleeve and making a short and effectual slice in his forearm with his belt knife. Blood dripped out. Not normal, vivid red blood, but blue blood. The blood of royalty. "Emma, what colour is your blood?"

"Purple," Emma replied, grinning fiercely and taking the knife to make a cut in her own arm. Lilac blood oozed out. "Red and blue, combined. Who wants to cut our friend?"

Red sighed, taking the knife from Emma. "I've got twice the amount of blood on my hands than you two combined. I might as well add the blood of a Princess to my record." She carefully rolled up the sleeve of the now-bucking woman, trying desperately to twist her way out of Charming's grasp. Red held the skin of her arm steady, and made a straight incision. The woman shrieked loudly; she was bleeding electric blue blood.

"Well done, Charming." Emma clapped her father on the back. She leant forward to whisper in their captor's ear. "I'm going to take you back where you belong, Princess."

The woman's answering wail was devastating.

It being the middle of the night, Emma made the decision to head back to the King's Feet for the evening rather than trek across town back to the ship. However, Princess Regina did not go quietly. She shrieked and wailed, attracting the attention of everyone around her. And even though nobody came to her aid, it made Emma very uneasy. Eventually, at the end of her tether, Emma unsheathed her sword and dealt Regina a quick blow to the head. Knocked unconscious, she made much less of a racket.

Captain Swan led her crew through an alley leading to the back door; she wasn't stupid enough to drag their captive through a crowded common room of drunks. Miraculously, all four of them made it to their second floor rooms without being questioned once.

Charming heaved the Princess from over his shoulder to flop on the bed in a very undignified manner. "Well goodnight!" He slid out of the room quickly, shutting and locking the door to the adjacent room behind him, leaving Red and Emma alone with the Princess.

"What if she wakes up?" A bemused Red asked her Captain.

"That's why we're gonna tie her up." Emma waggled her eyebrows, unbuckling her belt and removing its many attachments.

"This cannot end well," Red commented, rolling the Princess over on to her stomach so she could bind her hands together. Emma wound her leather belt around the Princess's wrists twice, buckling it and thus securing her. She sat back against the headboard, admiring the result. "Something tells me you're not looking so lustfully at the knot you just tied," her friend commented.

"Do me a favour, Red," Emma tossed her a leather pouch of silver coins. "And go and get enough alcohol for us to see the night through. If Little Miss Princess wakes up, I have a feeling we're gonna need it. And lock the door on your way out, just in case."

The red leather-clad woman left gladly, trotting off downstairs to do as Emma bid. The Captain she left behind rested on the bed alongside the unconscious Princess, studying her captive. She was having trouble understanding the girl, which was rare for Emma. The Captain didn't understand mathematical formulas or Latin characters, but she'd always been able to read people and read the sea. In her profession, they were two skillsets which came in handy very often.

But this Princess… she posed a definitive problem to Emma. What the hell could have been so horrible about marrying a King that she'd escaped  _to clean a brothel for a living_? At least when Emma had done it, she'd had an end goal in sight – to get the hell out of Tortuga. Princess Regina had no reason whatsoever to want that life, she would've had everything she wanted married to King Leopold of the Winterlands.

How had a Princess fallen this far from grace?

A low groan came from the mattress which Emma had thrown herself down on so casually. Her still booted foot twitched, and then nudged the semi-conscious Princess in the side. The girl whined and Emma grinned. She hadn't bothered to do her sums but if Regina had run away at seventeen, which was five years ago… Emma counted her fingers. That meant the girl was now twenty two, although still in a seventeen-year-old's body. The Captain whistled. By God, she'd be beautifully responsive. A virgin, too, as long as she hadn't been deflowered during her time in Neverland. Oh, but then there was the son.

"Henry?" The other woman mumbled into the mattress, rolling over onto her back. Then her memories seemed to come back, because she began to thrash against her bonds. "Let me go you pigs! Bloody pirates, release me!"

Emma chuckled. "Sorry love. No can do."

The girl, in her thrashing, rolled all the way over to the side of the bed and fell off with a thump. The Captain cocked an eyebrow at the place where she had fallen. The Princess's actions so far begged the question… how in the hell did she escape in the first place? First Regina had insulted her captors, had wasted energy uselessly and was now trying to escape from a locked and supervised room with both hands tied behind her back. Silly bitch.

Finally the Princess heaved her nicely formed behind off the floor and glared at the blonde Captain. Emma leant against the headboard, legs spread open with a hand tracing circles on her leather-clad thigh. The Princess flushed, in anger or lust Emma couldn't tell. She fumbled with the handle of the door, pushed it down…

"It's locked?" She asked in a high-pitched, incredulous voice.

"Are you so stupid to think I'd leave it open?" Emma asked condescendingly. "Or are you just trying to lull me into a false sense of security?"

Regina sneered at her, but before she could snark back at the blonde, the door clicked open and Red entered from the outside. "Watch the ale!" Emma yelled as her Master Gunner ducked the Princess's weak punch and swerved around an attempt to elbow her in the ribs. Captain Swan leapt off the end of the bed and wrapped two long iron limbs around the Princess's concave belly. The girl screamed loudly through the open door. "Help me!" She screeched. "Pirates!" Emma cut off her words, kicking the door shut.

The Captain dumped her prize back on the bed and turned to Red. "Did you spill any ale?" She demanded to know.

"Why do you doubt me?" Red enquired, handing Emma a full tankard.

"Beasts!" Regina yelled at them. "Kidnappers! Bitch!" The last insult she directed towards Emma, with particular venom.

"Sorry, love," the blonde pirate shrugged. "Nobody here's gonna come running to save you. I know the owner."

Red took a long gulp of ale. "Oh, just gag her already, Captain. I know you're dying to."

Emma smirked, clambering her way back onto the bed and into the Princess's personal space. The girl eyed her with that feral glint; it was unsettling in a twenty two-year old. " _You're_  the Captain?" She asked scathingly. It might have been offensive if Emma didn't get those kinds of remarks all the time.

The blonde doffed her hat to the Princess. "Captain Emma Swan at your service, milady."

Regina's eyes widened perceptibly and she opened her mouth as if to say something, hesitated, then screamed even louder than before. It was gratifying to know her name elicited such passion, but Emma's ears were beginning to ring at the volume. "For the love of God… SHUT UP!" She yelled over the screaming girl. Unwinding her sash from her middle, Emma stuffed the cloth she used to clean her blades into Regina's mouth. The brunette made as if to spit it out, but Emma tied her sash tightly around her mouth.

The Princess finally silenced, Emma reclined on the pillows once again. "Lock the door again, Red," she mumbled sleepily. "We can't have Little Miss Princess trying another escape in the middle of the night. I need my beauty sleep."

Regina made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a giggle. Emma ignored her.

She drifted off into fitful sleep, her last conscious memory of Red eyeing their captive with unbridled suspicion.

"CAPTAIN!"

The roar of a panicked man came from near her ears. Way too near. Emma jumped awake, separating her night terrors from reality instantly. The voice, though more nervy and unhinged that Emma had heard it in many years, was unmistakeably Charming's. The Captain grabbed her sword from where it lay on the nightstand and rolled off the bed, still fully dressed from the night before.

Her father too, was clad in his leathers and had his sword drawn. Only Red, still drowsy and curled up in an armchair, wore a nightshirt. "What's going on?" She slurred, hopping around on one foot, trying to pull her breeches up one leg.

"Nevic Navy alert," Charming alerted them warily. "They've got wind of us, Emma. They know who I am and where we are, certainly. I don't know if they've learnt of your true identity."

"They haven't," Emma told him brusquely. "And after two hundred and fifty years, that's the way I'm keeping it. Where are they now?"

In answer, Charming gestured towards the window. The Captain carefully approached it from the side, inching forward so she would not be seen from outside. Below, at the door of the tavern, there was easily a whole crew of men waiting like dogs around a rabbit hole.

"Mmm," came a mumbling from over in the corner. "Mmm, mmm!"

Emma waved a quick hand at their captive. "Somebody ungag her, please."

Red strode over to the Princess and having finally dressed correctly, withdrew her dagger from her belt and cut through the sash in one quick slice. Regina spat out Emma's blade-cleaning cloth in disgust. "Don't leave me for them to find," she pleaded with them.

"I don't leave 50,000 gold pieces for my enemies to find." Emma said firmly. Then paused. "Are you playing  _mind games_  now?"

"Better pirates than the filthy scum that pretends to run this land," Regina spat. If she was faking her desire to go with them, then she was a bloody good actress.

"Can we do this later?" Charming intervened desperately. "I don't know if you've realised, but our  _blood enemies_ are on the fucking doorstep!"

"I'll do the sarcasm, thank you Charming." Emma cut across him. "They're getting ready to invade the front, but they'll probably have the back covered as well. Which means…"

Red smirked, showing a full set of razor sharp teeth. "This day is suddenly looking a whole lot sunnier."

"Over the roof?" Regina squeaked, as Emma heaved her way through the trap door leading to the top of the building.

Emma smirked. "What's the matter, Princess? Never been on top before?"

The snarl the captive girl gave her just elicited a smirk from the Captain. Emma had a strong feeling that had she loosed Regina's hands, still bound by her belt, she would have been boasting a hand print on her cheek. The girl had fire… that was for sure.

"It's a pretty long jump," Red reported, returning to the chimney behind which the other three were hiding. The roof was visible from down below and Emma had decided that she couldn't take the risk of them being seen. Still, at least they hadn't had to restrain the Princess whilst making their escape. Lugging a bound and struggling woman with them might have been the difference between being captured and going free.

Emma glanced over to the gap between the  _King's Feet_ inn roof and the one neighbouring it. "Do you think we could make it?" She asked her Master Gunner.

"I know  _we_  can." Red emphasised the plural. "I don't know about her."

"You and Charming go first," Emma quickly decided. "Regina, you'll have to watch how they jump and try to copy that. And remember, if you fall to your death you're only worth a tenth of the gold you are alive."

"Thanks for that encouragement, Captain." Regina's voice rose in anger. "But unlike  _certain_ people I have a responsibility to my son to –"

Emma clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shut up. Sound carries, you know."

Regina nodded once in acknowledgement and Emma released her hand, confident that no further loud noises would be made from their captive. The blonde slowly rose to her feet, still crouching so as to be hidden by the chimney and gestured for Red to take the jump. Her wolfish friend took a long run up, springing lightly off her feet and landing on the other side like a cat on all fours.

"Show off." Charming commented, grumbling under his breath. His leap was much less elegant, but functional all the same. His knees took the impact and he crumpled, rolling over twice before getting back up on his feet.

"Let's get you over then, Princess." Emma sighed, giving Regina an encouraging little pat on the behind as she got up to take her leap.

The girl whirled around, her eyes wild once more. "Don't touch me!" She hissed, still keeping the volume of her voice down.

"Fuck, okay." Emma agreed, raising her hands in surrender. "Just get on with it."

Drawing what seemed to be a very deep, nervous breath, the Princess began to run at the edge of the roof. She bounded forward off the ledge, arms wind milling as she shrieked against her will. Emma flinched at the high-pitched, loud sound. If the Nevic Navy troops hadn't already realised what was going on, she had maybe a minute to do her own jump. And it would be probably dangerous, if any of them had a bow to hand.

Not looking to see if Regina had managed to reach the other side, Emma sprinted towards the edge just as troops came bursting up through the trap door that led to the roof. She took off, streamlining her body so she made herself less of a target. Despite that precaution, an arrow sped past her, missing by inches and another embedded itself in her calf. But it was all over in half a second.

Tucking her head into her abdomen, Emma slapped her palms on the ground as she fell and rolled forward, getting straight back onto her feet. She turned her head wildly, taking all of them in (her prize was still alive and intact, thank God). "Let's go!" She ushered them onwards, clambering over a washing line. She spared a glance back at the men chasing them and was alarmed to find them hot on the trail.

"Shit!" She swore loudly, ignoring a prudish glare thrown her way by the Princess. Emma had much worse habits than an excess of profanity. Two days ago, for instance, she had decapitated a man. But she wouldn't be doing much more of that unless she managed to find a rabbit hole for them to escape down.

Without any warning, Regina stopped abruptly. "Ouch!" She yelled, hopping on one foot and clutching the aloft ankle. Even from where Emma was standing, she could see the blood trickling from a large gash in her foot. Silly girl. She could cost them all their freedom. And on that thought, Emma ducked under Regina's suspended leg, ignoring her shocked expression and hefted the Princess up onto her shoulder. "What are you-" She began, but was abruptly quietened by the motion of Emma jogging underneath her.

"Whatever you do," the pirate Captain warned. "Do  _not_  throw up down my back."

"Noted," Regina groaned as she bounced up and down, balanced precariously on Emma's slim shoulders. Charming and Red ran ahead, faster without the weight of a young girl on their backs. And then, quite abruptly, the roof cut off. The three of them were left staring down at the ground below (the Princess took in their pursuers with alarmed eyes, facing the other way).

"Here," the Captain told her Master Gunner. "Take the Princess. Charming and I will find another way off the roof."

Red did as she asked, carefully repositioning the captive girl on her own shoulders. "Christ, she's not as light as she looks."

"I'm still conscious  _and_  bleeding!" Regina snapped, sounding for the first time like the spoilt Princess that Emma had expected when she took the job. "And how on Earth are  _we_  going get down from this rooftop if the Captain and her muscled friend need to find another way out?"

Red smirked, despite Regina not being able to see her face. "We're gonna be climbing, Princess. Unfortunately, the Captain and muscled friend aren't as, well,  _wolf-like_ as I am." And with that, she hopped off the edge of the roof, Regina's screams echoing as they plummeted. Emma chose not to watch, instead searching for an escape route. No matter how many times Red executed her 'wolves always land on their feet' trick; it never failed to unnerve Emma. Some mornings, she would be peacefully swimming while the ship was anchored for an hour or so and Red would go plunging down into the water, having jumped straight from the top of the main mast.

Pulling her attention back on the task at hand, Emma glanced at their pursuers. Two rooftops away, they still looked angry. She and Charming had a minute tops to re-join the others and get the hell back to the ship. Emma searched desperately for a way out and desperation illuminated the only course she could take. "The chimney!" She called to Charming, who looked like he was considering taking the hard way down.

"Of course," he strode over to the very large funnel. Twice his breadth, it would easily allow both of them to slide down. "Are there holds we can use to climb down?" Emma searched the inside lip of the chimney and shook her head in the negative. "We'll have to free-climb down together, back to back. If we try and go solo… well, we'd be lucky to come out alive." Charming hoisted himself up onto the top of the chimney. He and Emma linked their elbows, sandwiching their backs together.

"Hang on!" Charming told her, before they began their descent. "Your calf!"

It was only now her father had pointed it out to her, with adrenaline rushing through her veins, that Emma remembered the arrow which had hit her as she had jumped over the rooftop. She made a quick examination of the wound and then, gritting her teeth, yanked it out of her flesh. Now it wouldn't lodge in the side of the chimney whilst they were making their descent.

"On three." Emma muttered, and then realised that their pursuers were only one washing line vault away from catching them. "Three!" The father and daughter duo dropped through the chimney entrance, walking themselves down the funnel as fast as they dared. Emma tried to match the pressure of her Boatswain's back on hers but it became increasingly difficult to concentrate with the haste of their descent.

Something had to give and unfortunately, it was Emma's foot.

With a horrific screech of loose gravel and bricks, the duo plummeted down the chimney towards the bottom. Emma scrabbled at the walls encompassing them as they fell but only succeeded in bloodying her hands.

And then suddenly, Emma felt her whole body come into contact with the hard stone floor of a smoky fire place. The crash reverberated through every tiny part of her body and the wind was abruptly knocked from her. Her vision was off-kilter, but the Captain staggered to her feet. "Charming." She murmured groggily, holding out a hand for her father to take. The hand that grasped hers did so weakly, but at least they were still both alive and conscious.

For the first time, Emma took in her surroundings. They appeared to be in some kind of den of illicit activities. Not much was illegal in Neverland; between carnivorous mermaids on the west coast and a community of preteens and adolescents in the south-east, what passed for Nevic law enforcement had more pressing issues. However, the little that was firmly outlawed seemed to be a prominent presence here.

"I don't even want to know what's wrapped up in those white sheets." Charming muttered, coming up behind her. "And last time I checked Nevic law, which granted was a fair few centuries ago, keeping  _that_  much dark fairy dust in one place isn't just illegal, but dangerous as hell."

"This  _place_ is as dangerous as hell." Emma decided. "Let's find the door and get the hell out before our Navy friends find us in here and decide to arrest us for more than just spontaneous disinheritance of the royal family."

Charming crossed the room, rattling the handles of the boarded-up doors. "Actually, they want to arrest me because I looted half the royal coffers before I ran away. They're just really pissed that I spontaneously disinherited the family too."

Emma placed a foot on the jammed door for leverage and yanked hard on the handle. "Whatever happened to blood is thicker than water?"

"Blood's messier." Charming admitted, taking a run up to the door and kicking it hard. There was a sound of wood breaking and Emma shouldered the now-splintered door open, assisting her father up for the second time in ten minutes.

"Let's get out of here." She told him, jogging up the steps that the door had concealed.

Mercifully, the door from the top of the staircase was neither locked, bolted nor barricaded, so they made the final exit out into the sunlight once again without difficulty. Emma shielded her eyes, searching the street for Red and Princess Regina. The Navy were still marching the street in droves, but thankfully such large crowds had formed that Emma and Charming were all but invisible.

"Where are they?" The Captain hissed to her Boatswain as they slipped through the crowds. Regina was unremarkable in her tattered clothes and lanky locks. But usually Red could be spotted from a mile off, with long crimson strands in her hair and scarlet clothing.

Charming, who had a good seven inches on Emma, craned his neck to see over the crowds. "I see her," he sighed, relieved. "Let's get the hell back to the ship."

"Agreed," Emma hustled him along with her hands, trying not to capture the eyes of the Navy, who were incompetently scanning the crowd. Between them, the father and daughter duo knew the Nevic streets well. They had both lived here for a time and visits had once been more frequent; that was before the giants stopped growing beans for easy travel and before the two of them stopped taking crazy risks. Their intimate knowledge of the streets of Port Lost would be a big asset here.

Finally, they reached Red, who had a firm grip on Regina's forearm. "Tell me she didn't try to escape," Emma groaned. "And here I was, thinking that this was going to be nice and smooth."

"Caught a glimpse of a boy in the crowd," Red shook her captive fiercely. "She was  _sure_  he was her son."

Emma sighed. "We can discuss this son business when we're back on board," she told Regina. "But the Navy could spot us any second and none of us want that to happen…"

"On board," the Princess reiterated firmly.

"Lead the way, Red," Emma gestured, taking up the rear.


	5. The Seas Be Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines. For those of you that have read Rick Riordan’s ‘Percy Jackson and the Olympians’ series, yes, I did nick the name of a location in this chapter from him. But as somebody famous once said, ‘you can’t have all work and no plagiarism’.
> 
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we're related for better or for worse...and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.”_ – The Sea of Monsters, Rick Riordan

They were only ten minutes away from boarding the ship and getting the hell out of Neverland when the Princess decided to make a break for it.

In hindsight, Emma supposed she should have seen it coming. Regina was twitchy and she’d already tried to escape once. In addition, she’d been working in a brothel for the last five years. The likelihood was she knew a lot about fighting to run away, the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions. Emma herself could remember scrubbing at stained floors, evading the stares of leering drunkards and on occasion, having to punch and kick her way out of their grasp.

Still, what happened next was unexpected. The Princess angled her body towards Charming’s, who was steering her firmly with a hand on her back. Before he had time to question her, her hands were on his shoulders and her knee had shot up between his legs to impact his groin… hard.

And then she was away, running hard along the dock as her captors stared after her, momentarily nonplussed. “You stay with Charming,” Emma directed Red. “I’ll go get our pretty, little Princess.”

The Captain took off after her quarry, enjoying the adrenaline burst that came with the chase. She sprinted after the erstwhile Princess, feet pounding rhythmically on the cement. It wasn’t a particularly well thought out escape attempt, the dockside was almost deserted and most of the shops were closed. What Regina had hoped to accomplish by running away now, Emma really had no idea…

She tackled the girl easily enough, bringing her down to the floor with a thump. Perhaps she had scraped and bruised royal tan skin, but the Captain didn’t particularly care. This was what came of people who ran away from their responsibilities. Not that Emma particularly condoned the choices that had been made for Regina, but why couldn’t she accept them and live with them like everybody else?

“Get off me!” Regina scrabbled at the blonde with her blunt nails. “You brute!”

“Right then, Princess,” Emma hoisted the wiggling, protesting Princess over her shoulder once again. “If I have to _carry_ you back on board my beautiful vessel, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“I hate you.” It was said with a quiet, cold fury. Out of anybody else’s mouth, Emma might have been a little concerned. But Regina was tiny, browbeaten by life and in a hopelessly impossible situation. She wasn’t the kind of person to lash out when backed into a corner. She was the kind who trembled and curled herself up into the tightest ball possible.

Making sure Regina was secure on her shoulder, Emma began to trudge back to the dock and her ship. Measures would have to be taken to ensure that she didn’t try another escape until they were well away from Neverland; outside of the magical boundary that encompassed the whole land. Red and Charming were waiting for her; her father seemed to have recovered from the shock of being hit in the crotch.

“She mustn’t have got very far,” Red commented, subtly admiring the curve of Regina’s behind as it was presented over Emma’s shoulder.

“To the end of the dock, maybe,” Emma estimated, falling into step with the other two as they made their way back towards _The Bloody Blade_. They took the last distance easily, even ninety pounds of woman slumped over Captain Swan’s shoulder.

“David!” Came a cry from the ship and Snow ran down the gangplank to greet them. “Have you found her?”

“Affirmative,” Emma grinned at her step-mother. “We have her torso, too. Not just her ass.”

“Why couldn’t I have been captured by someone whose mouth had been washed out with soap?” Regina moaned. “Bloody pirates!”

They boarded the ship, Emma indicating Charming to draw up the gangplank while she set Regina down, gripping her wrists so she couldn’t make yet another break for it. “Red, if you could please take our esteemed guest down to the brig. Snow, I need a word in my cabin.”

“What about my son, _Captain_?” Regina spat at her. “You can’t just leave him here! He needs me!”

“He’s not really your son, Princess. And he has no place where you’re going.” Emma sighed softly. This was going to be harsh, but it needed to be said. “That boy lived a life without you once before. I’m sure he can manage it again.”

Red caught the keys that Snow threw her and nodded once to her Captain, taking the Princess into her grasp and marching her below deck. Emma caught a glimpse of Regina straining her neck for one last look at her hometown. The worst part was that the blonde understood what it felt like to leave a son behind. But better than anyone else, she knew that sometimes abandonment was the best fate. Sure, it hurt like hell. Emma herself could testify to that. But sometimes it was for the best - what kind of life would her own son have had growing up with a pirate for a mother? The same applied to Regina’s son, whoever he was. The Princess was going to marry a King and likely give him many spawn to one day rule the Kingdoms of Winterlands and Springlands. An adopted son had no place in that picture. Really, Emma was doing both of them a favour.

The Captain descended back down into her cabin for the first time in nearly two days. It was just the way she had left it, which mercifully meant that no well-meaning incompetents had attempted to clean it while she had been away. Emma sat down on her luscious bedspread and patted the spot next to her for Snow to sit down on.

“Report, please,” Emma asked, picking at her fingernails.

“Let’s see,” her step-mother contemplated. “I caught Grumpy and Nova together on deck last night.”

“Where?” Emma asked, genuinely curious. She was reasonably certain that over her century and a half of captaining the _Blade_ she had found every feasible place in which to fuck senselessly. It’d be a shame if Grumpy and his pet whore had christened a totally new spot.

“Very traditional,” Snow smirked. “Against the wheel.”

“Oh, I wish people wouldn’t screw there,” Emma whined. “I have to steer that bloody wheel. Anything else noteworthy?”

“No unexpected visits from the King accusing us of harbouring his estranged son, no,” Snow smirked, knowing what Emma was really asking.

Emma flopped back onto the bed in relief. “That’s good news; but unfortunately they know we’re in town.”

“What?” Snow exclaimed. “How?”

Her Captain recounted the story of their search for Regina, missing out on no detail. She described her idea of a brothel, their brief stay at _The King’s Feet_ , the exhilarating chase across the rooftops and the Princess’s escape attempts. By the end, Snow was hanging on to her every word, mouth open.

“But there’s something I haven’t told you.” Emma hesitated. “It’s about the Princess.”

“What about her?” Snow asked, confused.

“There’s a reason her mother wants her back so badly, other than just maternal affection, of course.” Emma said, slowly. “Princess Regina was engaged to be married to King Leopold of Winterlands.”

Her Quartermaster’s eyes went from curious to upset in less time than it took for Emma to draw her sword. Her posture slumped and she fell back on the bed, her usual childlike energy evaporating from her skin. When she spoke, her voice was soft and timid. “She’s going to marry _daddy_?”

Emma sat up on her heels, placing a tentative hand on Snow’s shoulder. “I know this must be strange for you, Snow.” The Captain pursed her lips in disapproval. “The Princess is a good twenty six years younger than you.”

Snow’s tone of voice turned contemptible. “My father’s fiancée is only twenty two! That’s disgusting. _He’s_ disgusting.”

“I don’t really care if you avoid her.” Emma became business-like. “But don’t tell her about your heritage. She may mention it to her husband-to-be and I’d like to keep out of the way of royalty where I can.”

“Ironic,” Snow snorted. “You can’t keep out of the way of yourself.”

“I am _not_ royal.” Emma bit back at her step-mother. “And get your head the hell out of your ass. You’re two hundred and ninety seven years younger than my father and I’m well over two centuries older than you. Did I ever care about your age when you became _my_ step-mother?”

Snow shook her head, subdued at the reprimand.

“Then attempt to follow my example.” Emma snapped in a way that was clearly an order. “And cut the hypocrisy.”

She left her Quarters with an ignited temper. Emma was a simple girl. She liked rum, the sea and easy women. She hated having to fend off the emotional indulgence of her father and step-mother. They were great warriors and fearsome in command, but their combined greatest flaw was how openly they wore their hearts on their sleeves.

The Captain had avoided that crap for a blissful few years, until Charming had shown up. At least he had bucketful’s of testosterone, if not tact, and so tended to stay out of her way in any personal capacity. It was only after he married Snow the so-far unsuccessful attempts to become one small, happy family unit became infuriatingly frequent.

Emma descended so far down into the ship that the light became as black as her mood. Until finally, she propped open the door to the brig. It was dank and musty down here, where the prisoners were kept. Having endured the occasional unfortunate stint in here herself due to varying circumstances, Emma could appreciate just how horrific the place was. The stink of stale excrement and sea salt permeated the air. When you took a step, you could almost hear years of dirt and decay crunch beneath your feet.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Emma began to make out the profile of their current prisoner, sitting hunched in the corner. If there was ever a portrayal of how the world dumped on somebody’s shoulders would look, it was Regina in that moment. The Captain felt her frustration melt away as she wound her hands around the cold iron of the cell bars.

“Princess?” Her voice, usually so harsh and commanding, echoed softly through the dead silence. There was no answer from the huddled shape in the corner, so Emma tried again. “Princess? I’m going to give you free reign of the ship when we set sail if you promise to behave.”

“I’d rather stay here, thank you.” Regina’s voice was muffled, but bore the unmistakeable sound of somebody who’d been sobbing heavily.

Emma sighed through the bars. “You can’t stay in this brig. You’ll be very sick within days. And as a Princess, you’re entitled to stay in my own Quarters.”

“I’m sure I’ll get very sick there, too.” Regina spat back. The little figure in the corner unfurled itself, getting onto its feet. The small rays of sunlight that passed over her face, although partially blocked by the bars on the window, illuminated a very angry expression. “Do _not_ act like you’re doing me any favours, _Captain_ Swan. You kidnapped me and separated me from my son in order to take me back to my fiancé, may he rot in hell.” The volume of her voice had steadily increased until she was shouting in Emma’s face. The Princess rounded off her little speech by spitting at the Captain.

“If that is the way you want it to be.” Emma told her, dangerously softly.

The blonde turned on her heel and marched back up the stairs towards the deck and the sunlight. She felt considerably better off for her talk with Regina. Rude and infuriated captives were always so much easier to deal with than gracious ones.

“Captain Swan!” Charming fell in step with her as she passed the galley, holding a large hunk of sweet dough. “The crew want to know our bearing. Are we sailing eastwards to Evermore?”

“North.” Emma decided, emerging into the sunlight of the deck and heading towards the wheel. “I have an errand to run, first.” She breathed in deep, preparing to let rip. “ALL HANDS TO THE DECK! PREPARE TO SET SAIL!”

Belle hurried along behind Emma and Charming as they mounted the stairs to the Quarterdeck. “Captain!” But the blonde ignored her navigator, continuing to yell her commands.

“HOIST SAIL! HAUL THE SHEETS!”

Belle tried again. “Captain!”

“SLACK WINDWARD BRACE AND SHEET!”

Finally, Belle put a hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “Captain Swan!” She yelled loudly.

Emma whirled around to face the brunette. “What?” She said harshly, well aware of the question which Belle was about to ask. The girl stepped in closer, effectively cutting Charming out of the discussion.

“Why is our bearing due north?” She asked softly. “There is naught there but...”

“Aye.” Emma affirmed for Belle. “The Sea of Monsters.” She had both hands on the wheel, steering her ship out of Port Lost’s harbour and so missed the horrified expression on the other woman’s face.

“The Sea of Monsters?” Belle squeaked, her voice cracking mid-sentence. “But, Captain –“

“The rumours are untrue, you know.” Emma gripped the wood of the wheel more tightly. “I know many a sailor that has returned intact from that place.”

“Is that true?” Belle asked tentatively. She clutched the maps she was holding tighter to her chest, as if that would protect her from their eventual destination. Emma contemplated her answer.

“I’ve survived the Sea of Monsters once before.” She eventually shared, just as the ship broached open water. Belle, wide eyes open, was listening intently. Emma bit her lip, before slowly beginning her story. “I was very young… just turned twenty one or thereabouts. It must have been three years or less since I joined Captain Hook’s crew. We were reckless and stupid in grief; I had lost my baby and he had lost his true love…”

_It was another cold night aboard the Jolly Roger. Emma’s hands felt frozen to the rigging she held tightly in her palms, still coiling up the line for the night. She and Hook were the only crew still on deck; the moonlight giving him a long shadow over the wood. Emma glanced up at his proud figure once in a while. It was strong and sturdy, exactly the kind of man to captain a ship as fine as this._

_She tied off the line, rubbing her chafed palms together. The sea breeze soothed the sores until her hands were numb and she could no longer feel them. Emma wandered over the creaking wooden floors. She mounted the steps (where she and Bae had last made love). She drew a hand down the mast (where Bae had taught her east from west and north from south). Finally, Emma approached the Captain at the wheel (where Bae had first told her that he loved her and their child)._

_“Trouble sleeping, Swan?” He asked he, eyes still firmly pinpointed on some unidentifiable spot at the horizon._

_“No more’n usual, Captain.” She told him, thick untamed Tortugan accent clearly showing her roots._

_Hook spared a rare glance at her. Emma knew that she did not present the pretty picture she once had. Her long blonde hair was threatening to escape her pirate hat. Her skin, which had glowed during pregnancy, was calloused and scarred from self-inflicted workload. Her green eyes, which had sparkled with happiness when she was with Bae and her baby, were dull._

_Her Captain sighed. “Swan. When was the last time you slept through the night?”_

_“When was the last time you did?” She challenged him right back, twisting a stray blonde curl around her finger and tucking it back underneath her hat._

_Hook contemplated her for a long second. He opened his mouth, maybe to tell her the truth, maybe to tell her to fuck off and do something useful. Emma would never know._

_BANG!_

_Suddenly the whole ship shuddered beneath them. The blonde lurched forward in terror, knocking into Hook who grabbed her shoulder with his good left hand. “What the hell?” He shouted to nobody in particular, but obviously expected an answer._

_Emma pointed a shaking hand towards the figurehead of the ship. A long, green appendage had curled itself around the stone mermaid. It visibly tightened and then with a shockingly loud snap; the mermaid’s head broke off and sank into the depths below._

_“Shit.” Hook muttered, his eyes fixated on the place where the mermaid head had once been._

_The two of them couldn’t move, frozen to the spot. Hook had known what he was doing when he sailed into the Sea of Monsters. Emma had had a reasonably good idea of what she was doing when she went with him._

_The crew began to emerge on to the deck, spilling out of doors and cabins. There was another loud BOOM from beneath the ship. And then, all of a sudden, the very wooden floorboards beneath their feet began to tremble. The hand that was clutched on Emma’s shoulder, Hook’s only hand, tightened and drew her into his body. Normally she would have protested, but now she understood. There was security in feeling another person pressed up against you. It was the kind of security that wouldn’t protect your body, but protect your terrified mind._

_There was the splintering sound of wood splitting apart beneath their feet and then the most terrifying thing happened. A green serpent’s head appeared above the ruined figurehead. It was chewing heartily on the stone mermaid head and Emma was honestly trembling in Hook’s arms._

_“What the hell is that?” She whispered._

_If it was possible, her Captain’s forearm tightened further around her shoulders. “Sea serpent.” He growled. He didn’t sound quite as afraid as she did. But Hook was irrational and a risk-taker; he saw life-threatening situations differently to anybody else she’d ever met. It was almost like… like they excited him._

_“What do we do?” She asked him, in a hushed tone._

_Then, almost out of nowhere, the thick green tail that had snapped their figurehead wrapped itself around the deck of the ship. It crushed at least two men, even before it began constricting itself. The head extended forwards to snap up two pirates unlucky enough to be the closest. Finally, the ship gave way and split almost down the middle under the pressure of the tail. The snake continued to chomp its teeth on sailors, their blood oozing from its extremely sharp fangs._

_Emma watched the events with a dreadful horror on her face. The ship was more or less wrecked and would soon sink. Pirates were dying left, right and centre. The blood that ran through her veins was no longer delivering oxygen, but panic._

_“This is what we do.” Hook told her, a low tremor in his voice finally showing his own fear. He tucked her right arm around his waist and then began to run towards the back-end of the ship, forcing her along with him. He gave her a boost using his shoulder, then clambered up onto the railings himself. “Jump!” He ordered in a tone that left no room for arguments. Emma didn’t even hesitate. She pushed off with her feet and dived into the water with a loud splash._

_Kicking out desperately, she began to swim in God knew which direction, following the sodden man in leather ahead of her._

 

Emma finished recounting her story, lost in the past. “We were at sea for what felt like days before we stumbled ashore some tiny island. We were the only two survivors.”

“How did you escape the Sea of Monsters… in the end?” Red asked in a hushed tone. Her Captain started and looked around at the small audience that had formed. Belle, Red, Grumpy, Snow, Granny and Charming at the wheel had all been listening intently to her story.

Captain Swan smirked. “After a day or so of drinking coconut milk, we swam back to the wreckage. By some kind of miracle, one of the dinghies had survived mostly intact. Hook and I salvaged the supplies we could and then we rowed that little boat all the way to Neverland.” Emma chuckled. “He named it the _Jolly Roger_ and made himself Captain. I was the Quartermaster.”

Grumpy voiced the question that was everyone’s mind. “How did the _Jolly Roger_ go from a dinghy to a pirate’s ship?”

“When we eventually left Neverland again,” Emma told them. “We stole some rich merchant’s ship and left the dinghy in its place. Swapped the names too. Our faithful little boat became the _Red Gem_ and the big, buff ship was renamed the _Jolly Roger._ ”

Snow looked hesitantly to her Captain. “Is the Sea Serpent the worse creature in the Sea of Monsters?”

Emma laughed, long and loud and hearty. “Not even close. There’s the Hydra, Charbydis… we can’t forget the Sirens of course. And then… there’s the Kraken.” Charming and Belle both betrayed their faith by muttering a quick prayer to the Gods. Grumpy looked alarmed; Granny and Red wary. Snow had gone a faint shade of green.

Belle opened her mouth, but only a squeak came out. She tried again. “The… the Kraken?”

Emma smiled wearily at her navigator and the rest of her audience. “You don’t need to worry. The Kraken hasn’t been seen since the split of Nevermore. It’s only a theory. For all we know, the Kraken could be dead.”

The storytelling had left the Captain feeling unusually tired. She promised her father that she’d be up to overtake the steering once she had just had a few moments… of deep… restful… slumber…

 

A bugle sounded in the distance.

It felt like it was a long way away. The blonde with mussed bed-head hair certainly thought so. And the knocking and the banging. That too… at least a few miles. The yells of ‘CAPTAIN’ were closer. Emma closed her eyes dreamily and rolled over…

Then her door burst open.

The bugle call was deafening. The yelling was piercing her ears and Emma would do almost anything to make it stop…

“Captain!” Red shook her athletic frame, hard. “It’s the Princess. She’s escaping.”

Suddenly Captain Swan was wide awake and she bound out of bed, pulling her breeches on and demanding an explanation from her Master Gunner at the same time. She buttoned them as the girl talked frantically, trying to explain herself. “Charming was at the wheel and Grumpy was on deck – a few sheets to the wind, you know how he gets – and they were the only two awake. And then there was this sound… Grumpy said a rat but Charming was positive it was some kind of bird – which is plain ridiculous. I mean, we’re well at sea now…”

Emma was at the door, wrenching it open to jog up to the deck. “Cut to the chase, Red!”

The girl shook herself, trying to snap back into focus. “Before they knew what was happening a dinghy hit the water and Regina was on those oars like she’d had some fairy dust injection, bloody hell…”

The Captain raced over to where a crowd had formed, staring at the dinghy which was making a quick getaway in the opposite direction. “ANCHOR!” Emma yelled loudly as she parted the crowd. “The _Blade_ doesn’t move another inch until the Princess is back on board… UNDERSTAND?” She roared.

“YES, CAPTAIN!” Came the crew affirmative. Emma stripped off the breeches that she’d only just put on, leaving herself in nothing but a flimsy nightshirt and boots.

“Red, strip off.” Emma ordered. “You’re my fastest swimmer.”

The Master Gunner’s eyes widened perceptibly. “You want us to swim to that boat… in this cold?”

In answer, the blonde toed off her boots and indicated her subordinate to do the same. “I will need a line, please, Grumpy?” Emma asked the pirate, clocking his lecherous gaze at the parts of her body which were newly uncovered. “And Charming… I’m going to need a leg up.”

Her father gave her a boost to the top of the railings, and after winding a line securely around her waist and looping it off with a knot, Emma plunged into the freezing water with a sleek dive that had been perfected in two centuries of practice.

It was ice cold, the water. Even worse than it usually was when she took her morning swim. Emma could feel her breath rattling in her lungs and even as she struck out in fast, efficient strokes, the ice permeated her skin. Having pre-judged the distance from the Quarterdeck to the dinghy, the Captain set a pace that she knew she could keep without difficulty.

From what she could see in the water, the Princess’s strength was already waning. Yes, she had scrubbed dirty floors for five years. But she had no stamina; it was only a matter of time before Emma caught up to her. The woman could hear her fellow pirate’s long inhales and exhales just behind her. Red had supernatural strength and loved the water, the former giving her just a little bit of an edge over the Captain speed-wise. But Emma was the champion when it came to endurance and it appeared like Red was allowing her to set a reasonable pace.

There were cheers and woops from the ship like this was a race. Emma supposed that that was what had tipped Regina off that somebody was on her track, because there was a muffled scream from the boat and the sound of oars working even faster. The blonde cursed… she was a good endurance swimmer but even she couldn’t stay in icy water this long in nothing but a nightshirt.

“C’mon Red,” she growled, striking out even harder. Her strokes were long, fast and furious and within what seemed like moments, she touched the end of the dinghy. Emma gripped the sides with her fists and hoisted herself up but was met with a sharp hit on the head with an oar. Taken by surprise, she slid away from the wood and slipped into the water.

An iron-strong forearm clamped around her middle and forced her to resurface. Red had caught up to her. “Captain? Are you okay?”

“Woozy,” Emma admitted. “I’m going to need another boost, but it’s got to be a fast one.”

Red nodded. The blonde placed her foot in a calloused hand, and fought off the slight nausea her bash to the head had induced. Then she bent her knee and pushed off, launching herself over the side of the boat. Emma collided with the Princess with a wet _smack_ sound, knocking her to the floor of the little boat with a thud.

Within seconds, the Captain was once again under a barrage of blows from a wooden oar. Puzzled, she tried to fend them off with her hands. If Regina was on the floor… then who in the hell was hitting her so fiercely?

She peered up at the figure, not quite making them out. Then, they made further questions quite unnecessary by punctuating each hit of the oar with a word.

“Leave. My. Mother. The. Hell. Alone.”

Emma wrenched the oar out of his hands and swept a foot around his body to slam his calves… causing him to topple to the floor. She was on him in a second, the wooden handle of the oar to his throat and partially blocking his airway.

“You’re Regina’s son?” She asked curiously, running her eyes over his face. There was definitely no resemblance to the captive there, not that Emma was expecting to see anyway. There was no way Regina could have birthed this ten-year-old after being away only five years. Besides, in Neverland you never grew up. Who knew how long this boy had been ten-years-old for?

The boy didn’t answer her question, so Emma jiggled the rigid wooden handle against his throat. He gasped. “Yes! Yes, I am.”

Emma narrowed her eyes curiously. “What’s your name?”

“Henry,” the young boy spat back defiantly.

The Captain narrowed her eyes down at him, but before she could ask any more questions, a heavy body landed on her back and fists beat down on her head. Emma shrieked in surprise, but the beating was short-lived. The creaky little fisherman’s boat was unbalanced and with a final groan... it capsized.

The blonde was once again submerged in ice cold water but she clawed her way back to the surface quickly. Red had Henry in her grasp and was clutching the upturned boat for floatation and Regina was making slow, but steady progress back toward her son. Huh; somebody had evidently had enough time to teach her how to swim before letting her marry a King.

Almost instinctually, Emma held out a hand to pull Regina in the rest of the way, but the Princess ignored her, finishing the last leg all by herself.

“What now?” Red asked, still clutching a fidgeting Henry.

“We row back…” Emma trailed off distastefully, eyeing the distance between her beautiful ship and the slightly splintered dinghy.

Red groaned.


	6. And By the Powers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.   
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?”_ _-_ Jodi Picoult

There was a strange kind of foreboding in Emma Swan’s blood when she hoisted little Henry back on to the deck of her ship.

This was exactly the kind of situation she had wished to avoid when she had made the decision to leave Regina’s adopted son behind in Neverland. Regardless of the reasons she had given Regina, Emma couldn’t deny the empathy that had coloured the choice. She too, had had to give up a son for his own good. Even if the Princess thought it was some personal sadism, Emma knew she had saved the young girl a heart-breaking goodbye.

And now, displaying greater loyalty to his adoptive mother than the Captain could have ever imagined, Henry was on board her ship. And with the Nevic Navy likely hot on their trail, there was no way she could send him back to Neverland. No, the deed was done. He would have to accompany them, even if there was no question of him leaving the _Blade_ with Regina. Perhaps she could train him up to be a cabin boy, Emma mused.

Slim and pale hands wrapped themselves around the boy’s wrists and hauled him to his feet with surprising strength. Emma’s step-mother wrapped a ragged old blanket around his form and rubbed it frantically, almost trying to shake the cold from his bones. The Captain herself turned to see Granny laden with special spiced tea, plying it on both her and Red. She drank it gratefully and it burned its way through her.

But Emma had a job to do that not even spiced tea would distract her from. She grabbed the Princess’s arm and marched her towards her Quarters. Regina was so out of it, Emma doubted she would put up much resistance even if she tried to push her back overboard. They made it into Emma’s cabin, where the Captain sat her captive firmly down on the bed. She ignored Regina’s sodden dress. It was ragged and filthy anyway; she wouldn’t let a cat have kittens on it.

Emma had never been particularly good at size appraisal, but as she ran her eyes up and down the Princess’s tiny form, she reflected that this one wouldn’t be particularly difficult. Regina, obviously not very tall to start with, was dangerously skinny and years of being browbeaten (physically and mentally) gave her a hunched posture.

The Captain unlocked the door to the room adjoining her bedchamber. It was in here that she kept the goods from her many merchant ship loots, so naturally it was extremely cluttered. Emma picked her way over a barrel of foreign spirits, a mace and preserved boar head before reaching a long rail of finely embroidered dresses and richly decorated tunics. They were useful for disguises, and even rare occasions when Emma had bargained and dealt with royalty… but they were mostly used for these situations – honoured guests… or captives.

The blonde grabbed two or three smaller-looking dresses at random and extricated herself from the loot chamber with difficulty, re-locking the door again firmly behind her. Regina hadn’t moved an inch from where Emma had sat her down, eyes unfocused and shivering.

“Regina.” The Captain clasped her chin with her fingers and locking eyes with her. “You in there?” The Princess nodded slightly, although her expression remained vacant. “Take a dress and go change behind my screen… okay?”

When Regina didn’t move, Emma pressed the material into her hands. She guided the Princess to her feet slowly, making sure that she was balanced and unlikely to fall on her face. Then gently, she walked her captive over to the screen, rubbing her arms to get the warmth back into her. “Princess,” she said softly. “You’ll feel better when you’re warm, but first you need to strip out of your wet clothes.”

Still nothing. Ah well, Emma thought. It wasn’t like it would be the first naked female form she’d ever seen. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She moved her hands to Regina’s shoulders and slid the worn fabric down and over her biceps… which was as far as she got before a hand slapped over hers to stop her.

“I can take it from here, Captain Swan.” The Princess informed her haughtily, obviously having regained control of her mental faculties. Emma nodded once in acknowledgement and stepped out from behind the screen, settling herself back down on her bedspread. She waited in anticipation, keen to see what the Princess’s body would look like without the rags. Granted, she already had an idea, considering how well the soaking garment had clung to her… but it would be nice to get confirmation.

While she waited, the blonde pulled on her own breeches, suddenly becoming conscious that all this time she had been wandering around in a translucent white shirt. Her leg twinged in pain as she pulled up the cloth and she examined her arrow wound for the first time since making her escape from the rooftop. It looked raw, probably due to the salt water. Emma rummaged around in her drawer until she found a linen bandage. She began to wrap it around her leg.

A little cough made her twist around as she tied the dry linen into a knot and she sucked in a gasp. Regina was beautiful. The blood-coloured scarlet of the bodice ended the impression of a victim that the Princess seemed to give off naturally, instead making her seem more domineering. The dress wasn’t so low cut to be scandalous, but still allowed freedom of movement while showing off her rather, well… _glorious_ assets. She was almost as close to perfection as a woman could get, aside from the hollowness of her cheeks and the concave curve of her belly. It was painfully clear that Regina was malnourished, and likely her son too.

“Captain.” Regina said warningly and Emma noticed that perhaps she had been staring a little too long.

“Right,” Emma began, getting up from the bedspread. “Well, let’s find somebody to take care of you –“ Her words trailed off as she realised that most of the Princess’s back was unlaced. “Want some help?” She asked sympathetically.

Regina gave a very ladylike snort. “I doubt you’ve ever worn, much less laced, a dress in your life, Emma Swan.”

“Actually,” Emma corrected her, as she drew the Princess back until she had a good angle. “I think this was the one I wore when your father was born.”

“What?” Regina said sharply, almost pulling away until Emma tugged her back into position. “How could you possibly…?”

“Immortality, love.” Emma leaned forward to murmur in her captive’s ear. “Your grandfather, who would be… ah, yes. King Xavier I of Springlands. He wanted to christen his son with an ancient family artefact, which his forefathers had misplaced. King Xavier was a smart man… he came to me rather than some academic fool with an ego the size of this ship. Needless to say, I found the artefact, presented it to the court and your father, King Henry I of Springlands, was christened with it.”

And with the conclusion of her story, Emma pulled the final string tight and knotted it. “All done.”

Regina turned to face her, unable to hide the shocked eagerness on her face. “ _You’re_ the one that found Spring’s Sceptre? My father always told me it was a brave and noble adventurer, willing to die for his King and his Land to bring back glory.”

“What bullshit!” Emma laughed. “Nah, your granddaddy Xavier knew which side his bread was buttered, even if your daddy doesn’t. He got his Sceptre, I got one hundred sacks of gold coins.”

Regina gaped at her like a fish. “But… but it was so romantic!”

Emma grinned back at her. “That should have been your first warning sign that it was bullshit. Let’s find somebody to look after you.”

“I’m not staying here?” Regina asked tentatively, as she was marched towards the door.

“Not a chance,” Emma laughed, not noticing the offended glint in the Princess’s eye. “You’re way too difficult and I need a good night’s sleep.”

They emerged back on deck in the cool night’s air, noticing that it was much less populated than it had been twenty minutes ago. Charming was at the wheel, the ship moving through the water once again. Red and Granny were still about, but the rest of the crew had disappeared.

“Snow took Henry below deck to look after.” Red answered Emma’s unspoken question. “Everybody else is back in their bunk. And you want me to keep an eye on the Princess.”

“Will you?” Emma asked, pleading.

“Of course,” Red said softly. “When was the last time you slept through the night?”

“Before we docked in Tortuga,” The Captain admitted woefully.

“We’ll take the girl,” Granny reached out to Regina’s shoulder a tightened aged knuckles over the skinny bones there. “And feed her up a bit too, while we’re at it.” She added with a frown.

Emma nodded at her crewmates and descended back below the Quarterdeck into her cabin, where she fell face-forward on to her bed and slept for what felt like eternity…

Until…

CRASH!

The Captain jerked awake with instincts born of two centuries of pirating. There was screaming but it was obviously distant.

“What the hell is going on now?” She asked nobody in particular. It was only when she burst back on to the deck that she got her answer. Regina had knocked over a pile of barrels in what seemed to be another escape attempt. Henry was fighting tooth and nail, trying to escape from Snow, who held both hands behind his back in a secure grip. Regina had needed more force to hold down; Grumpy and Sneezy held on to a wrist each and Red gripped her waist tightly from behind.

“What the _hell_ is going on now?” Emma repeated her earlier question, directing it towards her crew this time.

“I’m not sure,” Red admitted. “One moment everything was fine and then the next, there was cargo everywhere and she and Henry were sprinting towards the side of the ship.”

“Well they obviously didn’t get very far.” Emma rolled her eyes. “What were you trying to achieve? There’s no land for miles and the water isn’t exactly warm and sunshine-y…”

“I was just trying to get the hell away from you, _Captain_ Swan!” Regina spat at her viciously and Emma recoiled. It was the most raw and bitter kind of hatred and though it had been directed at Emma many times before… she had only ever expected resigned loathing from the delicate little Princess.

The blonde sighed. She had really hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. “I’m done with your attitude, Princess. Charming!” She called out, not taking her eyes off the pretty piece of ass in front of her. “Cuffs, please.”

Regina’s eyes widened in panic as Emma took the iron handcuffs from Charming. Surprisingly gentle, she clicked one cuff around the Princess’s slim wrist. Then shocking everybody present, she attached the other cuff to her own wrist, effectively joining them together.

“So now,” Emma said, well-satisfied. “I get to keep an eye on you 24/7. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“You can’t just…”

Unperturbed, the Captain stared down her new companion. “You need to learn the rules on this ship very quickly, lass, or things won’t go your way. We are in international waters… you know what that means?”

“I can stab you and I won’t be locked up?” Regina suggested, eyeing the knife stuck through Emma’s sword belt.

“That too,” Emma showed her teeth in what resembled a smile. “It means that since we have no King or Queen to rule, the job goes to the –“

“Princess?” Regina cocked an eyebrow. “Because I think that would be me.”

“Not the Princess,” Emma snapped back impatiently. “The _elected_ Captain of the vessel. Which means that effectively I am your Queen. Which means _you_ do what I say, or I take the appropriate actions and I throw you overboard.”

Regina smirked right back at her. “You won’t do that. I’m worth whatever ransom my mother is going to pay you… 50,000 gold coins, was it?”

“Quartermaster!” Emma called out, her eyes never leaving Regina’s. “Do you think the brig’s ready for another occupant so soon?”

“I can have it ship-shape by sundown, Captain!” Snow replied from just behind Emma.

“Excellent.” Emma muttered, fishing her keys off her belt. She held up two for Regina to look at, one new and made of brass, the other as old as the ship and coated in rust. “Handcuffs.” Emma wiggled the brass key. “Brig.” She twirled the rusty key between her thumb and forefinger. “Take your pick.”

Reluctantly, Regina reached out to brush a finger across the brass of the key to the handcuffs. “I’d rather take my chances being restrained to a pig like you, _Captain._ ”

Emma smiled, almost gleefully. “Alrighty then.” She turned her back on her new companion, catching Grumpy’s eye. “Time for a dip I think…”

“Aye, Captain.” He saluted. “C’mon boys! Lower the anchor!” The ship became a flurry of sudden activity and the crowd that had formed around Emma and Regina’s spat dispersed. Somewhat on autopilot, Emma raised her hands to unbutton her shirt. The clanking of the handcuffs stopped her in her tracks.

“Shit.” She muttered to herself, ignoring the vindictive smirk that settled itself on Regina’s lips. She wouldn’t be able to swim today, not while she was chained to her captive. Curse her! Why did the Princess have to be so difficult?

So instead of taking a relaxing, luxurious swim in the admittedly icy waters, Emma was forced to watch as the other members of her crew stripped off and dived into the waters below, some with more finesse than others. Snow seemed to have taken responsibility for Regina’s son Henry and was teaching him how to stay afloat.

 Emma wasn’t stupid. She knew that Charming and Snow had always wanted children, but their childlessness was mostly down to her. But the raging maternal instinct that the Captain saw in her step-mother’s eyes now tugged at her heartstrings, or at least the few Emma had left. A large part of her wondered if she could cope with her father having another child, this time with his true love rather than a lowly seamstress. She put on the appearance of indifference, but the little abandoned child within her sobbed constantly. Emma knew in her heart that she would never ever be able to forgive Charming for abandoning her.

She watched Snow now, her dark hair pulled back and joy shining in her eyes as she held Henry’s middle in the deep blue water. The boy himself looked wary of the surrounding pirates, but as time went on and Snow continued to encouraging him to swim with her gentle instructions; his guarded look faded. As Emma watched on, Charming swam over, exchanging words with Snow, his body language open and friendly. Even though the Captain couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could guess at something coated in familial love and affection.

“I’m hungry.” A voice at her side proclaimed. Regina. It hadn’t taken long to forget the woman chained to her.

Emma sighed. This was going to take quite a bit of getting used to. “Let’s get you down to the galley then.”

Granny seemed happy enough to see them, which perplexed Emma. The elderly woman was a fantastic cook, but strict and sarcastic, even to her own granddaughter. But the puzzle was solved when the entire kitchen table was laid with fantastic-smelling dishes and platters. Granny winked at the Princess. “Eat up, my dear.”

Emma grinned at her. “You could never resist an emaciated body to feed up.”

Her cook swatted her on the head with a wooden spoon as she passed to stir some unidentifiable substance. “I’m still surprised that you could make a living as a stripper. No man wants skin and bones to lust over!”

Regina, who had previously been picking listlessly at her food, started and turned to the Captain. “ _You_ were a stripper?”

Emma grinned back at her, licking the top of a spoon. “I have dabbled in lots of professions. Mostly the dishonest and illegal ones.”

The Princess raised an eyebrow. “Am I sharing my bread with an ex-whore?”

The Captain was unsurprised by the question. It’d been asked by various people at various points in her life. Sometimes by foes, sometimes by friends, sometimes by lovers. “No.” Emma shook her head. “I did do your old job for a while, though.”

Regina choked on the water in her tankard in surprise. “ _You_ cleaned a brothel?”

“Yes.” Emma affirmed, cleaning the inside of her soup bowl out with a hunk of sour dough which had gone almost untouched by Regina. “You said you were hungry. Why aren’t you eating?” She tactfully diverted the subject from herself before she started blubbing about her pregnancy and the bloody violence that had followed.

The Princess bit her lip guiltily. “I lied. I just wanted to get off the deck.”

Granny clucked from behind them and clipped Regina’s head with her ladle. “Eat, girl!”

Regina eyed Emma, and then pointedly looked over at Granny as if to say _what the hell is her problem?_ Emma shrugged back, and pointed at the soup which was going cold in the Princess’s bowl, which could be translated as _god only knows, but best to eat up!_

Emma watched as Regina reluctantly picked up her spoon. “So why’d you want to get off deck?”

The Princess smiled ruefully. “When I realised that I was going to have to say goodbye to Henry at the end of this voyage, it was like somebody had cut me wide open. And that girl who was bonding with him, teaching him how to swim… it was like she was massaging salt into the wound.”

The Captain hid an ironic smile from her captive. When Regina eventually married King Leopold, it would make Snow and Henry brother and sister. But the girl didn’t know that, Emma reminded herself. And she _couldn’t_ know that. Otherwise there was every chance that King Leopold might come looking for his estranged bastard daughter. And that was a confrontation that Emma really wanted to avoid.

“Why are you smiling?” Regina asked predictably.

“The girl who was teaching him how to swim…” Emma trailed off chuckling. “She’s my mother. Step-mother, really.” She amended.

“But… but ~~–“~~ -” Regina stammered. “She looks younger than you!”

“I am about two hundred and thirty years older.” Emma agreed, just as the door opened and Dopey entered. “Aha, Dopey! Take this and send Belle to the galley, won’t you?” She thrust a hunk of sour dough into his hand and wheeled him back around towards the door.

The Captain turned back to a still-gobsmacked Princess and rolled her eyes. “Once you’ve been immortal long enough, you realise that age no longer has very much bearing on things. The only exception being, of course, your reputation.”

Regina’s front teeth worried at her lower lip as she frowned at Emma, obviously trying to understand immortality and its consequences. Deep down, the Captain suspected that the Princess had already been thinking about it. But it was only now that those thoughts turned from pensive to contemplative.

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Regina asked finally.

Emma gave the question its due, and a moment of contemplation. _Did_ she get lonely? “No.” Emma finally decided. “In the beginning it was strange… to leave a place like your land, for instance. The Springlands. I don’t go there very often, because it’s off the main trading route. Like I said before, I attended your father’s christening in the dress you’re wearing now. For the next five years after that, I ran a smuggling operation off the coast of the Autumnlands. Then…” Emma strained her brow trying to remember. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I didn’t return to the Springlands for another twenty five years… when I received a wedding invitation from King Xavier, nonetheless.”

Regina gawped at her. “ _You_ were at my parent’s wedding.”

“Yes.” Emma ran her tongue along her lower lip, savouring the taste of sour dough. “And Christ it was a bit of a shock. Sometimes you don’t realise exactly how cut off you are. Anyway, your grandfather had a head a grey hair and his son was no longer a tiny baby, but a handsome young man.”

Regina held her breath. “What other major family events were you present for?”

The Captain chuckled back. “Nothing creepy like your christening, don’t worry. No, relations between us broke down after King Xavier died. He was a very devious man, unlike your father. I sometimes wonder if Queen Cora was his daughter, rather than the other way round. She’s cunning like he was. Forceful, too. I bet she ruled your life when you were younger.”

The Princess swallowed silently. “Not just when I was younger.”

The galley door burst open, saving Emma from having to reply to the truths that she’d already suspected. Belle rushed in, strewn hair and reddened cheeks from her observation post in the Crow’s Nest. “Captain?” She enquired breathily.

 “Sit.” Emma told her, with her mouth full. “Eat.” She ladled some chicken broth into a bowl and pushed it across the table towards her Navigator. The girl looked perplexed, but to her credit, merely began spooning the liquid into her mouth with gusto.

This little chat was long overdue. Emma had been meaning to talk with her Navigator about her unwise relationship with the sly Mr Gold before now, but had been preoccupied with missing Princesses and the like. She wouldn’t try to discourage Belle, Emma decided. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t manipulate the hell out of her.

“So when did you start fucking Gold?” Emma asked conversationally, and watched in amusement as Belle choked on her soup and went a funny shade of magenta. Regina gawped at her in outrage and the Captain ducked Granny’s attempt to tap her on the head with her ladle.

Seemingly recovered from her unfortunate choking episode, Belle regained both her dignity and her ability to speak. “You remember when I first joined your crew Captain?”

“Fifty years ago.” Emma nodded. “Your father kicked you out for sleeping with the wrong kind of man, so you stole most of his money.”

Belle sighed and closed her eyes, as though about to admit something she really didn’t care to. “That man was Mr Gold.”

“Hell’s teeth!” Granny swore from behind her and Emma jumped in surprise. She’d forgotten that the older woman was there.

This was a bit of a mess. She hadn’t intended to ask Belle to end their relationship, but _fifty years._ That was even longer than the relationship between her father and her step-mother, which she knew to be true love. Did that mean that this too, was true love? Would Belle agree to help her if she knew the endgame was the death of the man she knew as Mr Gold, but who in reality was a vicious magical criminal by the name of Rumplestiltskin?

In all likelihood? No.

But Emma had to try.

“Belle.” She started carefully, aware of Regina sullenly at her side and a seemingly inattentive Granny at her back. “I’m going to tell you a story, from my past. It’s about Mr Gold. You see, once upon a time, his name wasn’t Mr Gold…”

 

_“This is a mistake.” The words of warning come from a woman Emma considers to be almost a mother to her. “You didn’t know Rumplestiltskin like I did. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”_

_The man who is tying the line firmly to port, turns to regard his mother with an easy smile, which comes to his face so naturally. “Relax. My dad’s not gonna hurt us.”_

_Emma watches him fondly, appreciating firm muscles as he turn back around and bent over to continue working. Her left hand, callused from working hard since she had turned eighteen, rests on her baby bump. Life was turning out better than she had ever dreamed, back in that dreary life at the convent. An abandoned child of Neverland, tragic but not unusual. Given to the nuns to be raised. Escaped from the convent, only to be entrapped differently, cleaning a brothel and saving up desperately to buy passage away from Tortuga._

_But Baelfire has saved her from that life. Him… and their baby._

_Emma doesn’t quite know what she is going to call the baby yet. What gender it’s going to be. She hasn’t even envisaged what it was going to be like trying to raise the child with pirates. She just knows that she is unconditionally and unashamedly happy._

 

“Captain!” Regina snapped next to her. “If you could skip the rainbow and dances part of your dreary tale, I think we’d all be grateful.”

Emma looked at her, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Since Little Miss Princess demands it, we’ll skip the build up and go straight to the climax. Never a good idea, believe you me.”

Regina flushed pink, but waved her hand for Emma to continue.

 

_Emma has never felt so terrified in all of her life. Her baby, almost fully grown inside of her, needs her protection. But she cannot give it to him. Not with a maniacal wizard intent on revenge threatening to kill her, should Bae not comply._

_Sweet, handsome Bae. More sensitive than he let on, Emma know it’s killing him as he led Rumplestiltskin towards the Jolly Roger. Towards Milah and Killian. But Rumplestiltskin will kill Emma and her unborn child should he hesitate even for a moment, so Bae continues towards the ship._

_Emma wants to tell him to stop. To let her die. But she cannot condemn her child and so she stays silent. And all too soon, they have reached the Jolly Roger._

_“Bae?” It’s Killian that sees them first on deck. An odd trio. Bae, miserable and regretful. Rumplestiltskin, crazy and… almost excited. Emma herself, teary and completely defenseless._

_“Hey Captain.” Milah’s voice behind Killian is inappropriately sultry. “Want to -" And then she falls silent. Emma tries to catch her eye, tears streaming down her face, but Milah is firmly fixed on Rumplestiltskin._

_He grins at her in a way that could almost be called unstable. “Sweetheart.” He drawls mockingly. “It’s been too long. I see a pirate has managed to take your heart?”_

_She noticeably trembles and when she speaks, her voice quivers. “What do you want Rumple?”_

_The scaly hand on Emma’s shoulder clenches, a tingly sensation shoots through her body and she doesn’t even have time to panic before there is a cramping sensation in her belly, and it hurts so bad she doubles over…_

_“Emma!” She hears Bae yell but nobody is there as she sinks to the floor, clutching her belly in pain. She registers a woman screaming, but the aching pains in her belly come one after the next and it shouldn’t be this fast!_

_It’s unceremonious, the way she struggles out of her loose breeches but Rumplestiltskin has cast a spell on her and her labour is far too fast and her child will be born in mere minutes, if the stories she’s heard from other mothers are anything to go by._

_The screaming continues in the background and Emma’s own voice joins it as she lies down weakly on the deck, totally naked from the waist down. Why is there nobody here? She thinks as she closes her eyes, trying to block out the pain as the cacophony of noise continues._

_Slice. Thump. More Screaming. Crying. Father! Milah! Clashing of steel. Giggling._

_Then finally, a hand on her arm. “Emma. Hold on.” It is gone again, but that brief moment with the father of her child helps her endure the next, and last, contraction. There is more wailing, but this time distinctly belonging to a baby rather than a grown human._

_Emma is too weak to move but where is her baby? Had somebody delivered it? Is it being held? “Baby.” She finally mutters weakly._

_Then finally… there. In her arms. “It’s a boy, dearie.” Her son’s grandfather giggles and she cannot bring herself to care because she is holding her son and Emma finally opens her eyes and he is_ beautiful…

_“Why is he purple?” She asks vaguely and rhetorically, listening to the sound of his cries with reverence._

_“Blue and red.” Rumple murmurs, caressing her child’s angel face with his dirty, cracked claws. Behind him, Bae stumbles into her view, still limited by Emma being unable to move her head. Something feels wrong. Where are Milah and Killian?_

_“Get away from her. Get away from my son.” Bae spits at his own father, positioning himself in a fighting stance. Emma cannot understand. Why is he rejecting the man he came so far to reconnect with?_

_Emma tries to roll her head to one side, to see where her Captain and his wife are. Horror hits her like a bolt of electricity. Milah’s body is slumped on the ship deck, obviously in a deeper kind of sleep. Killian, clutching his arm and there’s something intrinsically wrong there… where the fuck is his hand? “No.” Emma moans softly, but it is not denial but defeat in her voice._

_Rumple, oddly uncaring and clinical, swipes her blood off her baby’s forehead. It is purple and Emma cannot care enough to repeat her question as to why that is. But to Rumplestiltskin, it is the only mystery left to be uncovered on this ship._

_“Royal and peasant blood combined.” Then slowly, gluttonously, Rumplestiltskin licks her purple blood off his gnarled finger with the flattened tip of his tongue._

_Emma doesn’t care. She really doesn’t because her eyes are burning into Bae’s and there is a little voice inside her that cannot help but say, this is all your fault. She hates that voice, tries to crush it. But she cannot deny the truths that it speaks. As unwanted as they are._

_“Take your son.” A hoarse voice tells Rumplestiltskin from by her side. She turns her gaze from her lover to see Killian, who has left Milah’s body and come to guard over her. He has wrapped some sort of gauze around his bleeding stump and the pain in his eyes in almost_ unbearable _for Emma to see. But it’s clear who, other than Rumple, he blames. And Bae looks hunted but says nothing._

_Such a free spirit. Emma knows he will protest the decision Killian has made for him. But to her shock he says nothing. And all of a sudden, the new mother feels an aching longing for the mother-figure that lies dead on the deck not ten feet away… Milah promised she’d help deliver the baby. She promised to cut the cord and think of names and love the baby._

_Family. Emma gazes down to the mess between her legs and at her baby… purple blood. Blue and red… peasant and royal combined. Her parents. One was royalty. One like her, a commoner. The pirate feels a renewed longing for them in the face of Milah’s death. She needed guidance from somebody who was already a mother. Emma can’t bring up her son alone. Especially if Bae, the first person she could ever truly call her own, is gone._

_She speaks for the first time. “Take your grandson too.”_

_Bae looks shocked… nearly speechless. “Em – Emma! What about our family? He’s our son! You want to give him to this…” he struggles to find a word despicable enough to describe his father. “Monster!”_

_Emma looks down at the baby in her arms. Bald and hairless, she’s never understood why babies are so beautiful. His eyes are blue for now, like all newborns and he’s not special. But he’s Emma’s son, something that belongs only to her and always will._

_She nearly shoves him at Rumplestiltskin. “Take him!”_

_Rumplestiltskin giggles maniacally. “And why would you want to give your dear baby boy away to me! I am but a humble murderer!”_

_Emma speaks slowly, piecing each word together until her sentences form some illusion of logic. “I want to know why I have royal blood.”_

_“And in return… I receive your child!” Rumple claps his hands together excitedly. “That seems a harsh bargain, mother of my grandchild.”_

_Emma pauses. “Also a favour.” She tells him wearily, stroking her son’s bald scalp._

_“Why?” Bae pleads with her._

_The blonde mother smiles half-heartedly. All she wants is to go to sleep and forget the last nine months. “What better life will he have on board a pirate’s ship? You know what it feels like to be loved, Bae. To have parents. And I… I have no idea. Our son needs a parent who knows how to take care of him, not just to love him.”_

_Rumple nods, clearly impatient. “Yes, yes, dearie. You’ve screwed up your life enough to want to give up your son all by yourself. Now let me…” He moves closer to her, shimmering fingers brushing over her brow while he closes his eyes in concentration. Emma tries not to retch at having the hands which had so cruelly killed Milah on her skin._

_The evil little imp whimpers in pleasure as his nails contract, digging into her skin and the pirate flinches. “Ah,” he sighs, withdrawing._

_“Well?” Bae demands, apparently even more eager than Emma to find out the true identity of the woman he’d been bedding._

_Rumplestiltskin gives her a calculating gaze, and then reaches tentative claws down to take her son from her grasp. Unnervingly easy with the infant, Rumple flashes her a grin. “Your dearest lover,” he emphasises the word. “Is the daughter of Prince David of Neverland.”_

Emma was startled out of her anecdote by a warm arm sliding around her waist. Belle had moved from opposite her to next to her and was clearly fighting tears… and guilt. “I am so sorry, Captain.” She apologised , sniffling. “For your… losses.” Belle looked the most conflicted Emma had ever seen her. “Do you want me to leave him? Because I’m not sure I -”

The Captain held up her hand before the Navigator could progress any further. “I don’t need you to leave him. I need you to help me destroy him.”


	7. Where We Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: (this chapter) – very strong references to rape; do not read if this is in any way a trigger.  
> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.   
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“We hide behind that which brings us comfort from pain and sadness… or use it to repel a truth too devastating to accept.”_ \- Sunil Nayar & JaSheika James

 

There was a slight _click_ on deck as Emma flicked open her compass. Squinting to see by only the light of the moon, she established that she was still sailing due north and re-pocketed the device. Hesitating momentarily, the Captain reached for the bottle on the floor. She wasn’t too used to having an audience when she drank.

“How can you drink that?” Regina asked from her place, chained to the railings. “When you must have seen what I have seen?”

Emma knew what she was referring to. Whores that drank themselves to death, red-faced old men who pawed and drooled after downing whole bottles and puddles of vomit to be cleaned from the floor, every single night. They were like perfect drawings burned into Emma’s memory. And she didn’t appreciate them being floated back to the surface by some stuck-up brat who thought she knew what suffering was.

Solely for amusement, the Captain downed the remainder of the bottle in one long gulp, then tossed the bottle over in the Princess’s direction where it rolled over till it hit her feet. Regina kicked it away, a disgusted look on her face. Emma chuckled. “You know, I think I have you more or less figured out. Love is the most important thing in the world to you, right? That’s why you were cleaning a brothel, so you could afford to keep your son. You also tried numerous escape attempts, all so that your son wouldn’t have to be alone. Your morals… well they’re important too, but they take second place to the boy… Henry right?”

Regina nodded in acquiesce, maybe too curious about where Emma was going with her little monologue to stop her in her tracks. Not that she really could, considering that she was still chained to the railings.

“So you watch the people in Port Lost make all the wrong choices and a thousand and one mistakes and you _promise_ yourself you’ll never end up like that, because living in oblivion means living without love.” Emma paused; the rum had made her more loose-lipped than she’d intended. But Regina had already heard her tragedy – losing her true love, her son and any remaining innocence in one fell swoop.

“But what you don’t understand,” Emma continued hesitantly. “Is that when you’re living without love regardless, oblivion is always a better option than pain. That’s why I drink now; it lessens the pain I live with.”

She could feel Regina’s eyes on her, calculating and assessing as she steered the ship forward. Perhaps she was comparing miserable experiences. Or maybe just unnerved about how close to home Emma had hit. The truth was, Captain Swan was a little perplexed herself at the similarities between this Princess and herself at twenty years old.

When Regina spoke again, it took Emma off guard. “You’re not oblivious though, are you Swan?”

“I’m not living without love entirely, darling.” Emma chortled. “It’s you I’m… concerned about.”

The Princess started towards her, eyes flashing dangerously, but the chains clanked and held her back. “I am _not_ living without love! I have a son who I… who I adore!”

Emma reached back into her pocket to grope for her compass, wanting to check that they had still been sailing on the right course while she had been distracted. “I’m not contesting that.” Emma said mildly, flipping the lid open. Slightly more easterly than she would like and the Captain adjusted their course accordingly. “But as you now realise, I know exactly what losing a son feels like. All those morals, all the things you swore to yourself that you would never do. Oblivion erases that entirely.”

There was a long lull in conversation then. Emma couldn’t tell if Regina was genuinely contemplating her words or if she’d just fallen asleep. She refocused her attention on the steering and checked the position of the moon. It was late. Charming should be out to take over soon.

“Where’s Henry?” Regina asked quietly, startling the Captain a little. “Is he with your ~~-“~~ -” here she made a face. “Step-mother?”

“Yes,” Emma replied absently. “She’s set up a cot next to her and Charming’s bed.” Then the Captain caught a glimpse of their captive’s forlorn features. “Don’t take it personally. It’s just common opinion that it would be best to begin separation now and ease you away from one another, rather than doing it all at once.”

Regina gave a rare, wry smile. “I’m to lose my son, Captain Swan. Where’s the ‘best’ in that?”

The Captain’s hands tightened around the wheel. “I meant best for him. You’re fucked whichever way you slice it.” Her voice harshened over the expletive and Emma felt hollow satisfaction as her captive flinched.

“I’m not.” Regina told her, the quaver in her voice sounding like she was almost trying to convince herself. “I’m going to see my parents again. I’m going to be _queen_ and have my own children! My life will be _perfect_.”

Emma resisted the urge to chuckle at the Princess. “Then why the hell did you run away the first time?”

“Wedding jitters,” she said, jaw thrust out, as if daring Emma to accuse her of lying through her teeth. Emma narrowed her eyes at the Princess and prepared to do just that. But the captive was saved by the sound of boots marching heavily on the deck below.

“Charming!” Emma said in a parody of jubilation. “Come take over for me so I can take our Princess down below…” She winked saucily at him.

Her father smiled at her gratefully and Emma internally cursed her step-mother and Quartermaster to hell. Before Snow had married Charming, her father had been a nice, insensitive kind of guy. She could give the orders she wanted to and command him just like any other pirate in her crew. Now, the two of them wanted to bond at every conceivable moment. The Captain wanted to scream at him; tell him that sword fighting and drinking were bonding and that endless talking about feelings was pointless. But then she’d just be giving them exactly what they wanted.

So instead, she stepped aside to offer him the wheel and tugged the Princess down below into her cabin.

“Release me!” Regina demanded as she was pulled down the stairs and shoved through the door. “Captain Swan!” She said indignantly as she stumbled across the threshold.

Emma shrugged. “Yell at me all you like. Demand what you want. Beg if you have to. I’m just letting you experience what it’s like to be a prisoner.” She landed her palms on the Princess’s abdomen and pushed hard so Regina toppled onto her bed. The Captain crawled onto it and on top of her captive, the handcuffs clinking loudly.

“Please no –“ Regina begged softly, cringing at her physical entrapment.

“Because this is what it’s going to be like.” Emma told her, breathing softly on her face. “To exist for one man’s pleasure. To be worth nothing more than a _slave_.” Later, the Captain would berate herself for not noticing how Regina’s eyes had become glossy and her pupils dilated and how cold beads of sweat were breaking out on her forehead, though it was a chilly night at sea.

But now, Emma continued to monologue and impart the one lesson she thought it necessary for the Princess to learn before she gave her back to her mother and fiancé. “But it won’t be just him. People will want you for your money, your precious jewels, your…” Emma cast an appreciative look downwards at where their bodies were sandwiched together. “Gorgeous body.”

“Stop…” Regina pleaded. “Please, not yet…”

Emma ignored her. Instead, she continued to preach. “Which is why you must _always_ carry some sort of blade with you. A hidden sheath. Up your sleeve. In your suspenders, for god’s sake.”

“What about our wedding night?” Regina was crying now. Emma pulled away from her, frowning. What? “Please, my King… tradition calls…”

The Captain rolled off her quickly, but was stopped from getting off the bed by the handcuffs. She fished for the key in her pocket and unlocked her cuff quickly. Emma grabbed a cup from her nightstand and filled from a tankard of god-knew-what. She jogged back over to the Princess and threw the contents of the cup in her face to rouse her from whatever hallucination or flashback she had been lost in.

Regina screamed. “NO!” Her hands clawed uselessly at thin air as she tried to wriggle towards the headboard. The liquid had had no effect, other than making her hair lank and dripping around her face.

 “Bugger,” Emma muttered. Her irrational actions, crawling on top of her with booze on her breath, had likely prompted this break of sanity. Her guilty conscience was making a rare appearance.

Afraid to put her hands on her and shake her out of it, Emma contemplated how else she could break the flashback, for this was undoubtedly one. The Captain thought she finally understood why Regina had run away from her mother and King Leopold of Winterlands before their wedding. At some point during the engagement, the dirty pig had probably gone to the Princess’s bedchambers and done… this.

Emma’s epiphany was broken by a long, harrowing scream. Regina was sobbing, twisting and writhing on her bed. “It hurts, oh it hurts!” She wailed, making painful fists in the sheets. The Captain felt a burst of pure, uncontained rage sour her body. She’d been a virgin, of course she had. That _bastard._

Fuck this. She had to end this, now. Before it got worse. _God forbid it got worse._ Emma clambered onto the mattress of her four-poster, wincing as she touched Regina’s shoulders and the woman screamed even louder. “My King – no! It hurts!” Emma shook her hard, biting her lip as Regina flopped around. Her eyes were unfocused and she was no longer speaking coherently, only mumbling nonsense.

Emma exhaled, most of the life going out of her body. Regina could not be brought out of her flashback by any means other than her own. The Captain got off the bed slowly, then pulled up a chair. She sat next to the prone body of her captive and watched her jerk and twitch with hollow eyes.

The tears were still pouring down the Princess’s face. She was still dressed, although Emma knew that where Regina was right now, that was probably different. Indeed, her unchained left arm had been possessively crossed over her breasts, like she was hiding them from somebody unworthy of the sight.

Emma had to swallow to discourage bile from rising in her throat. She had never been so disgusted with a lone human being. Even when her father revealed why he’d abandoned her and never come to find her, Emma had never felt this pure, unfettered rage before.

And she, the only female pirate Captain on the seven seas, who _understood_ and had experienced the harrowing treatment towards women in Neverland and Evermore; she was the one who was enabling the monster. Emma, by taking back the Princess, was going to allow what she was seeing now to happen repeatedly.

This first time. The time King Leopold had taken her innocence. That was on Cora, and the misery she had knowingly or unknowingly inflicted on her daughter. All the times after that, the wedding night, the night they’d conceive the heir to the Springlands and the Winterlands… they were _all_ on Emma and the role she’d had in returning Regina to Leopold.

The question was… could she live with that? Could she live with _herself?_ In another five or so years, maybe even less, when the heir to the thrones of Winterlands and Springlands was born, Emma would know exactly how they had been conceived. A child of marital rape.

The whimpering from the bed had finally stopped. Regina lay totally still, the tears drying on her cheeks. The slow inhalation and exhalation of her soft breathing was constant and Emma knew she was sleeping, and not in pain anymore.

The Captain rose from the chair, wincing. She’d been sitting there longer than she’d realise, her legs were full of pins and needles. Limping, Emma made her way over to the door which she locked, then the portholes which were also closed and locked up for the night. Then finally, she took Regina’s limp wrist in her palm and twisted the key in the lock, releasing her from the handcuffs… just for the night.

Careful not to disturb her captive’s slumber, Emma drew a spare blanket up to Regina’s chin, not daring to disrobe her in case it caused another flashback. Instead, she just left her to slumber peacefully.

Then Emma dragged what little spare bedding she had left over on to the floor and created a makeshift bed for herself. It was more than she felt she deserved after her actions that night, but Emma had spent a very long time indeed suppressing her guilty conscience. If she listened to it as much as any average person, she would have tied herself to the anchor and jumped overboard a long time ago.

As she wriggled, trying in vain to get comfortable, Captain Swan wondered at her options. She burned to save this girl, despite disliking her intently. But she couldn’t do so without making enemies of both the Winterlands and the Springlands and Emma needed their ports to trade it to earn a living. In addition, the fifty thousand gold coins she’d be given for bringing back her bounty was nothing to be sniffed at. Emma _needed_ that money. Maybe one day, when she got bored of sailing and adventures and _life_ , she would buy a manor house somewhere… the Summerlands perhaps. She’d go and find her son that she’d left to the Lost Boys all those years ago, and they’d live together for the next fifty or sixty years… however many years it would take her to finally die mortal.

Her son. Emma tried to picture him in her head, but the fuzzy-haired baby with bright pink skin, still bloody from birth had faded over two hundred years. Instead, she imagined what he would look like now. Her hair, little blond ringlets. Maybe Bae’s brown eyes. Her angelic baby boy.

As Emma drifted off to sleep, she named him in her head. _Milo._ My beautiful little Milo.

 

The Captain woke, tensed but did not open her eyes. There was someone moving around her cabin. Padding softly, as though robbing her or running away after an endless night of fabulous sex. There was a rattle at the door, but it didn’t open. Emma vaguely recalled locking it the night before.

There was a muffled curse and a bang. Emma winced and opened her eyes. Regina, still clad in her highly uncomfortable-looking dress from the previous day was trying to break the lock on her door… with the hilt of Emma’s sword. _Sod._

“It’s dark outside,” the Captain whined, enjoying Regina jumping in shock.

“You uncuffed me.” Regina hissed back. “I’m making a getaway.”

Emma stretched out, popping the kinks in her back and placing her hands underneath her head. “Come on, love. We’re two days sail away from Neverland. We’re about to cross into the Sea of Monsters, which means another two days sailing to Hollow Isle. Where is there to get away to?”

“You wouldn’t have to look at me.” Regina said lowly, her eyes lowered to the floor. “Know how weak I am.”

Emma cocked her head and got up from the floor. “Trust me, Regina. I have many words to describe you with… weak isn’t one of them. Where has this come from?”

Regina closed her eyes. “Last night. I was only… remembering. It won’t happen again.”

“Technically it still is night,” Emma gestured out of the porthole. “And why are you ashamed? What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” She tried to soften her voice, reaching out a hand to put on Regina’s shoulder. The other girl twisted away, her face embittered.

“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t _pity_ me because of this.” Regina spat at the Captain. “I am not weak.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Emma said glibly, biting her tongue. She wasn’t the Princess’s mother. She disliked the girl. Arranged royal marriages happened all the time; it wasn’t like this was the first time marital rape had ever happened. _Just the first time it’s happened to somebody you know_ , a little voice in her head said, but Emma silenced it.

Regina began to pace, apparently too wound up just to stand still. “Show me something pretty.” The Princess demanded. “Something pure.”

“On it,” Emma promised, darting through the door into her ensuite treasure room. She rooted through chests and boxes, until she found what she was looking for. It was the smallest chest of the lot, cherry wood studded with diamonds. She fished it out from the pile and returned to where Regina was still frantically pacing.

“Hey,” Emma caught her attention. “Something pure…” She flicked open the latch and lifted the dusty lid carefully. Inside she knew, was a pearl necklace. Creamy, shimmering and glossy, the pearls were just what Regina was looking for: pure.

“They’re beautiful,” Regina sat beside Emma, still keeping a good ten inches of space between them. It was space that Emma knew better than to breach now. She took the box from Emma’s hands, careful not to brush their fingers together. The Princess lifted the pearls out, studying them carefully. A tear, as beautifully formed as the jewellery, slid from her eye and trailed down her cheek.

Emma snagged the necklace. “Turn around, then.” Regina’s instant panic was obvious and Emma tried to rectify her mistake. “I mean hold your hair up, so I can…” the stuttering woman held up the necklace. Regina, still tense, but calmer, did as her Captain instructed. Emma slid the pearls around her delicate neck, the muscles there twitching in reaction to the icy cool jewellery and fastened the clasp.

“They’re beautiful,” Regina repeated, fingering the little individual stones.

“Yours if you want them,” Emma shrugged, getting back up and halting the emotion filling the air. She wasn’t built for this sort of soppiness. “I looted them off a ship a few years back.”

“Thank you?” Regina frowned, unaccustomed to the Captain’s rapid shifts in mood. But before she could quiz her further…

BOOM!

Wood splintered around them and smoke filled the air. Emma, reacting on instinct, launched herself back towards Regina and held their heads down as the demolishment settled. Only when the carnage seemed to be over did she lift up her own head and survey the damage.

“They blew the fucking door off!” Emma screamed, pelting towards the stairs to the deck, leaping over the wreckage of what was once her cabin door.

Leaving the Princess quivering on the bed behind her, the Captain sprinted up the stairs to emerge on deck… mid-battle. Her brave pirates were battling uniformed men; Emma squinted at the embroidery on their top pockets. Oh, bloody hell. _NN. Nevic Navy._

Emma ran towards the stairs to the Quarterdeck, jumping over Dopey who was on the ground and weaving round Granny, whose rolling pin was leaving Navy crewman out for the count left, right and centre. She drew her sword from its sheath and ran a Navy sailor through halfway up the stairs and dodged his falling body as it crumpled.

Charming was at the wheel still and being attacked by navy men… who were being fended off by Snow, wielding two swords in her right and left hands. On the other side of the deck, another sailor was attempting to join his crewmates but had been intercepted by Belle, who was cautiously wielding a ceremonial sword from the maps room.

Emma took in the surrounding seas quickly. _The Bloody Blade_ and the _HMS Dreadnaught_ were circling one another. The _Dreadnaught_ was the Nevic Navy flagship, and His Majesty King George I of Neverland’s preferred vessel. It was blue and white-striped (Nevic colours), glossy, well-oiled and the pinnacle of ship perfection.

Captain Swan wanted to sink it to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’ll take the wheel!” She yelled at Charming who nodded and surrendered it to her. She grabbed the wooden spokes with both hands and went about tightening the gap between the _Blade_ and the _Dreadnaught._

“Fill me in,” she ordered Snow and Charming, who back-to-back, were fighting off the navy sailors. It was an unfair fight – her dad and step-mother were unafraid of using punches and kicks and underhand manoeuvres to win. The sailors relied far too much on their weapons to protect them.

Charming feigned a sword thrust to the right and socked his opponent across the left jaw instead. “They were on us in seconds; I’m sure they had some sort of masking spell. They started firing less than ten minutes ago and started crossing over as soon as they were in range. Red’s ready to fire – just waiting for the signal.”

Emma nodded in confirmation that she had seen and heard what Charming had said, then focused on aligning the two ships. Unfortunately, the crafty bugger on the opposite ship seemed determined to stop that from happening. Emma smiled – they’d soon learnt their mistake in sending men over so soon. Now they were afraid to shoot canons for fear of killing their own sailors.

Finally, she had a good angle. “FIRE!” She yelled, pitching her voice so that it carried over the chaos on deck below. The order was repeated until the boom of canon fire sounded and Emma saw, to her satisfaction, that it had blown a couple of good holes in the _Dreadnaught._

Then, the sound she had been dreading… return fire. “Down!” She yelled, grasping both Snow and Charming and pulling them down onto the deck with her.

It was a good call. A canon ball whistled over their head and smashed the railings at the other end of the Quarterdeck. Grasping the wheel, Emma hauled herself back to her feet and giddily stabbed a sailor in the gut as he attempted to decapitate Charming.

Regaining control of the ship’s course, Emma briefly surveyed the on-going fight below on deck.  There were already a lot of bodies littering the floor. More Navy than pirate, but Emma had lost more than she would care to admit.

“Argh!” Came a cry from near the steps. It was Charming. He’d been impaled through the shoulder. While Emma watched, Snow calmly took a knife from her belt and eviscerated the man. He let out a bloody gargle and fell to the floor, his guts discolouring the wooden staircase.

“Take him to Bug!” Emma called out to her Quartermaster. “If you run into Henry, Regina or Ella… lock them in Bug’s office with Charming. If you can’t find them don’t worry, just get back here.” Snow nodded and took off towards the opposite side of the ship where Bug’s little cabin was located. Emma watched her go and prayed for the best. She might not have forgiven her father his sins, but she didn’t want him to die.

“Well, well, well…” came a voice from behind her. Emma wheeled around to see Lord Dylan Palmer of West Beach and Admiral of the Nevic Navy pointing a sword at her. “ _Captain_ Emma Swan. Harbouring not only one, but _two_ wanted fugitives… I see.”

Emma furrowed her brow. “Well I’m wanted in the Winterlands for theft and Autumnlands for conspiring to overthrow the monarchy. My Quartermaster is wanted in the Summerlands for cutting off General Lothar’s testicles. And I’m pretty sure one of my gunners flashed a nun once, but that’s a different story.”

Lord Dylan huffed. “I meant _Nevic_ fugitives.”

“Not sure we have any of those.” Emma feigned confusion. “I mean your laws are nice and simple right? No murder, no torture, no inhalation of fairy dust for leisure purposes and no sacrificial ceremonies involving the use of rabbit entrails.”

“You have been boning up.” Dylan smirked. “Everybody always forgets that last one.”

Emma’s hand inched behind her to the back of her belt. “Well, nobody on board’s been molesting any bunnies, I promise.”

“No, these are special examples.” The Admiral told her, beginning to pace a little. “My first quarry is Ashley Boyd.”

This stopped Emma’s search for her knife in its tracks. She had no idea who ‘Ashley Boyd’ was. There was nobody of that name on her ship, certainly. The Lord glanced up and looked frustrated. “Oh, Swan. This is the fourth lead on her I’m chasing up! You really have no idea?”

“None.” Emma shook her head. “Who’s the other?”

Dylan looked almost predatory. “I think you’ll have a better idea about him.” And then Emma’s heart sank through the floor. “I received information that you’ve been harbouring Prince David of Neverland.”

But that was as far as he got in his accusations, because Emma’s knife buried itself in his thigh. He stumbled backward and fell headfirst over the side of the ship. There was an intake of breath from behind her and Emma whirled around to confront this new opponent head on… but it was an ally.

“You _killed_ Lord Dylan of West Beach, the Admiral of the Nevic Navy?” Snow demanded, shocked.

“Nah,” Emma wiped her still-blood-stained sword across her white linen shirt. “Stabbed him in the thigh. He should be fine. Although he did take my knife with him… prick. How’s Charming?”

“He’ll be fine.” Snow rolled her eyes. “Emma, you nearly killed the Nevic Navy Admiral! The last thing you want is to be a felon in Neverland _as well_. It’s bad enough we have to be on the lowdown in the Winterlands and Autumnlands!”

“The Autumnlands is a barren tomb since Maleficent overthrew the King, remember?” Emma prodded her step-mother with the tip of her sword. “And there isn’t anywhere in Evermore _or_ Neverland where somebody on board this boat isn’t wanted for something. I need I remind you about the testicles of General Lothar?”

“I stand by that.” Snow rebutted. “Those balls were begging to be removed.” Her eyes widened and she dived forward to grab Emma’s ankles, causing the Captain to fall flat on her face and the blade that would have taken off her head whiz by.

“Thanks!” Emma gasped. “We’ll finish this argument later!” She pushed herself to her feet to engage this newest attacker. Nearly six foot and brandishing a sharp halberd, the man would look threatening to most. To Captain Swan, he looked like a gangly fresh-faced recruit with a glorified axe.

She ducked under his first swipe at her and thanked her lucky stars that a halberd, being so heavy, was difficult and clumsy to manoeuvre with. Emma slashed at his belly, and despite his jump backwards, still managed to score a shallow cut across his abdomen. He chopped down at her shoulder which she easily dodged. Then feinted at his right leg and buried her sword in his neck.

He hit the ground face-first and Emma left the halberd where it was. Though a clumsy weapon with which to fight, Emma would appreciate its aesthetic value when it was mounted on the wall. But she was distracted from thoughts of interior design when a quartet of freshly-uniformed young sailors sprinted up the steps towards her.

_On second thoughts…_ she grabbed the axe from where it lay on the ground. Emma would need more than a sword to fend off this lot.

The front pair were the first to engage, the left (who proudly boasted a handlebar moustache), swiping at her legs and the right (with anchor tattoos) thrusting at her torso. Emma blocked Moustache’s strike and swerved Tattoo’s thrust. She twisted to engage Tattoo in light swordplay, then when Moustache took the bait of her feigned distraction she buried the halberd in his side. Three and Four came up from behind as she met Tattoo strike for strike.

The Captain drew her second knife from her belt, which matched the one which had been lost in the sea along with Lord Dylan. Three had the dark skin of Springlands and almond-shaped eyes… she caught his swipe on her knife hilt and punched him in the stomach. Then Tattoo faked his way into dealing her a slash across her side. Grimacing in pain, she blocked his follow-up slice at her left with a block and then used the opening to slit his throat with her knife.

Only Almond and the other guy with adolescent fuzz on his face remained. Emma easily disarmed Fuzz with a kick to his wrist and suffered for it when Almond sliced her across the arm. Her side was still bleeding and she clutched at it, feeling faint.

“Emma!” Snow called from above, but the blonde Captain couldn’t be distracted. The swordplay was fast now, Almond and Fuzz working as a team to attempt to kill her. But Emma had fought hundreds more fights and practiced thousands of hours more of swordplay. She still had an advantage, injured and outnumbered.

Slowly she began to wear them down until she broke the two off from one another, punching Almond so hard he hit the railings, where a feathered arrow impaled itself in his chest. “That was for my step-daughter you bastard!” Snow screamed down and Emma couldn’t fight a bloody smile.

Now only Fuzz was left standing. He looked frightened, intimidated and he had been disarmed of his sword, leaving only a knife. In the right hands, it would have been enough. Fuzz’s hands were shaking. Emma took pity on him and bashed him hard on the head with the hilt of her sword. He dropped like a stone – unconscious.

Much to her relief when she looked up, Grumpy was at the wheel, even though trying to stem the bleeding from a head wound. “Thank God.” she breathed.

“Don’t give praise just yet, sister.” He told her. Emma looked out over the deck. There were more Nevic Navy sailors than before and even fewer of her people. And they were _still_ crossing.

“Snow’s in command on deck for now.” Emma said decisively.

“Captain… what?” Grumpy wanted to know. She handed him her pirate hat and he put it on, still confused. Then she stripped off her overcoat and breeches, to Grumpy’s amazement and jubilation.

Emma pointed towards Fuzz. “I’m going to strip this guy, put on his clothes and go over to their ship, where I’m gonna find a way to blow the whole thing to kingdom come.”


	8. We'll Roam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“My gran had always told me that a woman--any woman worth her salt--could do whatever she had to.”_  – Charlaine Harris

 

Fuzz’s clothes were itchy on Emma’s skin, but she ignored the mild discomfort in favour of finding rigging she could use to cross over to the _Dreadnaught._ Grabbing a well-oiled rope, she hung on as she endured the dizzying ride. With a thump, she landed on her feet on the deck of the _Dreadnaught_.

“Ahoy, sailor!” Someone called from across the deck.

“Ahoy!” Emma called back, lowering the tone of the voice so she could pass as a man. She fingered the hilt of the knife hidden under the loose uniform of a Nevic Navy sailor.

The man that had greeted her stepped over from the rigging he’d been tying off. Emma hesitated; she could subtly stick a knife in his gut now, or hope that her acting was good enough to put him off making any further chit chat. The man stopped just ahead of her, blocking her off from the hold where she could have found explosives like fairy dust. _Damnit._

“What are you doing back on deck…” the man glanced at the embroidered right pocket of her uniform. “…Private?”

Private Fuzz, huh? Emma fished for an excuse and gambled with: “Lord Dylan sent me back to fetch another sword from the hold. He was disarmed and his favourite weapon was thrown overboard.”

The man’s eyes narrowed but mercifully he didn’t subject her to further questioning. He stepped aside and Emma hurried forward, descending the steps leading into the hold at a jog. Making a snap decision, she turned left into relative darkness. “Lamp, lamp…” she muttered to herself, groping around before she alighted on the pear-shaped oil lamp. Her hand travelled downwards until it touched a rattling box… matches. She lit one and held it to the oil where it mercifully flared up, giving her light to traverse the hold with.

She held the lamp above her head, taking in the hold of the Nevic Navy flagship. Swords, dried and pickled food, craters of fresh water and there… dark fairy dust. Now all she needed was a fuse to blow the _Dreadnaught_ sky high.

There were large coils of rope looped over the rafters next to the water craters. Emma grabbed a length and sawed what she needed off with her belt knife. Not necessarily perfect technique, but functional. Scanning her surroundings, she hobbled over to a group of stacked barrels, holding her injured side. When she took her hand away from her Navy uniform, it was bloody. Damn, the cut had been deep enough to have already soaked through the fabric.

Emma used her knife to lever open the barrel tops, taking a sniff at what was inside. Grease, rum, wine… aha, oil! She dipped her length of rope in the liquid and limped back over to the container of dark fairy dust. Placing her make-shift fuse in a suitable place for maximum explosion, Emma lit a match and touched it to the end of the oiled rope.

There was a spark and then it caught. Emma, her job done, jogged as quickly as she could with her injuries to her side and arm towards the stairs. She took them at a sprint, trying to mentally estimate how much time she had before the whole ship would blow. Suddenly not so sure, she barged past the man that had stopped her on arrival and dived like a fish off the side of the _Dreadnaught_.

Hitting the water was only a burning pain. The salt, which while disinfecting her wounds, hurt like a bitch. Nevertheless, Emma gritted her teeth, discarded the ridiculous little Navy cap which had been hiding her glorious golden locks, and struck out. Fast. She couldn’t have more than a minute left before the thing would blow.

She cut through the water quickly, but not as effortlessly as usual. Blood loss was taking its toll and she felt faint. Emma raised her head from the water and judged the distance between her and the _Dreadnaught._ Not far enough – her heart sank. She swam fast, but was it going to be fast enough?

Emma felt the reverberations of the explosions before she heard it. The water was trembling around as the ship collapsed in on itself and she flew backwards on the wave that had originated at the epicentre. Emma put her head between her knees and curled herself up into a ball, trying to protect the sensitive parts of her body from the flying debris.

The aftermath of the explosion seemed to last forever. Emma was pushed further from the wrecked ship with every continuing ripple. She tuned out the ripping pain everywhere in her body. It was with dizzy alarm that she saw the water around her stained red… and then her vision went black.

 

There was a stinging pain in her side. It repeated uniformly. _Sting. Sting. Sting._ There was a quiet busyness to the place where she lay, drifting between alert and unconscious.

Slowly things came back to Emma. The last thing she remembered was floating aimlessly in the rippling water, having just endured an explosion… which had been caused by her lighting a fuse on a barrel of dark fairy dust… because her ship was being attacked by the Navy!

Emma sat bolt upright. Then screamed in pain.

“Captain Swan!” Bug said in alarm, at her side. The stinging sensation she had felt when she had awakened had been him stitching her wound. Emma cast a glance at her arm and was relieved to see that had been sewn up while she was still unconscious. Medical pain was the worst kind – there was no adrenaline to take the edge off.

But her sudden, rash movement had torn a lot of the stitches Bug had just carefully sown. Emma looked down at her injured side and winced. The stress on the wound had caused renewed bleeding.

“Lie back down while I finish this,” Bug ordered. “And I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Emma nodded in agreement, still grimacing in pain. Bug was one of the two crew members that Captain Swan took orders off, because he knew what he was saying and he never abused his power as their surgeon. Emma knew she was damned lucky to have him on board. The other was a man nicknamed Geppetto, her Master Carpenter. When he gave orders, the whole crew obeyed them and put in the muscle to improve the ship. And after two hundred years of sailing, it often needed fine-tuning.

“So,” Emma began, lacing her fingers over the torso. “What was the outcome of the battle?”

Bug’s needle began to dive into her flesh once again. “We won… your successful destruction of the _Dreadnaught_ turned the tide in our favour. To be honest, we had more of a problem stopping the Navy sailors from stealing our dinghies to run away than actually fighting them off.”

“How many wounded? How many dead?” Emma asked, tensing. This was something she dreaded asking, but had to know. The last time she had glanced over at the fight on the deck of the _Bloody Blade,_ there looked to have been many pirates’ bodies littering the floor.

Bug squinted down at his ongoing work and bit his lip. “Three dead. Nine wounded, including yourself. We were saving the funerals until you woke up.”

Deciding not to ask the obvious follow-up, Emma stalled. “How long was I out?”

“Around a day and a half. It’s early afternoon.” Bug replied softly, knowing what was coming next. The trouble with sailing with the same crew for decades, even centuries in some cases, is that everyone became attached. They were more of a village community than villains. Although the vast majority of pirates still maintained a healthy bloodlust.

“So tell me the dead and the wounded,” Emma commanded with false bravado, concentrating on Bug’s needle tying off the end of her wound.

“Dopey, Jim and Gus were killed in battle,” Bug said in a hushed tone, in respect for the dead. “The wounded… you, Granny, Grumpy, Happy, Charming, Bashful, Red, Sneezy…” he paused. “And the Princess Regina.”

Emma fought the urge to jump up and search Bug’s little medical bay for her bounty prize. She was worth triple her weight in gold! Instead, she gritted her teeth. “Any critical wounds?”

Bug helped her to sit up, being very careful not to dislodge her stitches. “Happy’s lost his left leg below the knee; Red has bad head trauma… the others are all out of the woods. Charming, Granny and Bashful have been cleared and have returned to deck. And we’re still waiting for Grumpy, Sneezy and Regina to regain consciousness.”

Emma swung her legs off the side of the hammock. She tugged her linen shirt back down over her abdomen, covering the finished stitches. “I’m clear, right?”

Bug nodded.

“Then take me to see the Princess.” Emma commanded. They began to walk to the other end of the little medical bay. “What should I expect?”

Bug pursed his lips. “She was run through by a sword, which miraculously missed all her vital organs.” Seeing the puzzled look on Emma’s face at his terminology, he simplified it for her. “You know when you normally run somebody through, they die instantly?”

Emma nodded. In her mind, she could picture the sailor she had driven her blade through only yesterday. He had died immediately on her sword.

“Well that’s because you normally hit part of the body that is so important, you’d die without it. What happened to Regina was that the blade hit her in such a place that it did not damage anything she couldn’t live without.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “I think I understand. She’s alive because the injury isn’t anywhere important?”

“More or less,” Bug nodded. “Here we are…” he gestured down at the hammock they had stopped by. The Captain looked down at the injured Princess. Her over-imaginative mind had foreseen blood pumping out of a hole in her torso, perhaps with the sword still sticking out for added effect. But the reality was very different… Regina lay peaceably on the hammock, clean white bandages wrapped around her chest. The pearls that Emma had given her yesterday morning were still fastened around her neck… and oddly undamaged. Her abdomen down was covered by a sheet, whilst the dress she had been wearing for the last couple of days was folded neatly over a chair.

Emma sighed in relief, leaning against one of the nearby wooden supports. Regina looked relatively normal. But her relaxation was momentary as Belle came barrelling in to the medical wing. “Captain!” She exclaimed, looking down at the empty hammock which Emma had been sleeping in for the last day and a half. Belle looked left and right, eventually spotting Bug and Emma standing over Regina’s hammock.

The Navigator half-jogged, half-walked towards them, an excited look on her face. “I just sighted Hollow Isle! We should be able to get there and back before sunset,” Belle estimated. She had taken some convincing to help them to find Rumplestiltskin’s dagger, even after Emma’s story about how he had ruined her life. Emma still suspected her of having her own agenda in finding the dagger, but the Captain didn’t care, so long as she could lay her hands on the blade and give it to Hook.

She turned her gaze away from Regina’s prone body. “I’m cleared to go up on deck and give orders, right Bug?”

“Free to go whenever you like, Captain,” her surgeon nodded.

Emma smiled. “Excellent. Will you please ask Doc to bring Regina up on deck as soon as she is able… and that there are a pair of handcuffs in my Quarters that I will need to restrain her with.”

“Aye, Captain,” Bug saluted her, and turned back to tending to his patients.

Somewhat glad to escape the stifling, quiet air of the little medical bay, Emma strode quickly back up the stairs and on deck. After 36 hours of unconsciousness, the light was blinding to her eyes, but the Captain tried to power through. She walked up the steps to the Quarterdeck, slower than usual and still covering her eyes. The ache that had begun to form in her head was not helping her throbbing side in the slightest.

“Emma!” Somebody exclaimed and she was swept up in a hug. Emma smelt the scent of salt and daisies, which meant that her assaulter was none other than her step-mother.

She clumsily hugged her back with her uninjured arm. “Hey, Snow,” Emma croaked, feeling like all the air had just been compressed out of her lungs.

Her Quartermaster pulled back, grinning at her. “We were all so proud when you blew that ship sky high.”

Emma laughed, long and loud, much to the complaint of her side, which continued to throb mercilessly. She moved past Snow and onto her father, who was looking as spritely as she’d ever seen him. He grinned at her from the wheel. “How many kills?”

Captain Swan recounted in her head. The guy she had run through on the steps. Lord Dylan, the Admiral. Moustache, Tattoo and Almond. And then all the men remaining on the _Dreadnaught._ “Five here, then I blew up the Nevic Navy flagship.” She held out her hand, smirking. Her father dropped two silver coins into her palm with a scowl.

Snow rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you have a running bet on who can kill the most in battle.”

Emma shrugged, nudging Charming with her hip to take control of the wheel. If she squinted, she could just about see Hollow Isle emerging from the mist. “Hey, you’re always talking about father-daughter bonding.”

She did not bother to listen to Snow’s reply as she withdrew Charming’s telescope from its place in his belt. Her own belt with its many attachments was probably somewhere in Bug’s little medical wing, along with her coat and items other than the linen shirt, breeches and soft boots that she was wearing.

Emma extended the telescope and peered through it, closing her left eye automatically. The engorged vision it gave her showed a tiny beach, adequate enough for a dinghy but the _Bloody Blade_ wouldn’t even get close. Emma shut the telescope and handed it back to her father. “Alrighty,” she told her Quartermaster and Boatswain. “I’m going to take Belle and Regina with me to Hollow Isle, while you two guard the ship against any possible attacks from creatures in the Sea of Monsters. We’ll return at sundown, with or without the dagger, and then try again the next day if we have to.”

Snow frowned at her step-daughter. “Isn’t Regina still unconscious?”

“She’s outwitted us too many times already,” Captain Swan pointed out. “I don’t trust anyone besides myself to make sure she doesn’t do it again, even if she was as dead as a doormat. She could be faking it.”

Her Quartermaster flinched, but Emma pretended not to notice. She wasn’t running a community here, where her job was to make everyone happy. She was running a pirate ship. As long as the coffers were always stacked with gold, jewels and rare delicacies, she didn’t care who she offended.

Emma cast her eye out over the deck below and was saddened by what she saw. Yesterday she had lost three pirates. Dopey, one of the seven Dwarves who now numbered only six. Jim, a faithful ex-nobleman who had been cast out of the Summerlands court for fraternisation with the Crown Princess Abigail. And Gus, a lady’s man with biceps the size of her face, who occasionally courted Red.

And if she hadn’t already lost enough, she still had two vital crewmates down in medical care. The result was that the crew needed more people to pull up the flack. There were untied lines everywhere and the sails were blowing wildly. “Snow. Charming,” Emma began. “I want you to do the grunt work if you please, just for now until I find replacements, please.”

“But Emma –“

“What use are people in command if there _is_ nobody to command?” Emma asked rhetorically. “We lost three excellent pirates yesterday. I’m asking you to take their places. _For now._ ”

 “Aye, Captain.” Snow muttered resentfully. Charming only nodded at her. Emma knew that he would always do what needed to be done. But Snow on the other hand, Snow had never quite grasped that though she was Emma’s step-mother, she was Captain Swan’s underling and therefore had to take her orders.

Emma watched the duo descend the stairs and picking up the flack left off by the dead pirates. Now free to steer in solitude, just the way she liked it, Emma focused on her view of Hollow Isle, which was becoming clearer and clearer.

_If she was Rumplestiltskin, where would she have hidden the dagger?_

Captain Swan was a pirate through and through. She would have found a nice, wooden chest. She would have placed the dagger in it. She would have picked a spot, dug down ten feet, placed the chest in the ground and covered it up. She’d find a map of the island, mark an ‘X’ where she had hidden the dagger and concealed it somewhere in her messy desk.

But she was a pirate. Rumplestiltskin was a finicky, clever magician.

If Emma was a magician, she’d had cloaked the dagger in some kind of special spell and given it a thousand magical protections which could never be broken. Her stomach clenched. How in the hell would she get her hands on the dagger if it was protected magically. Was this whole endeavour a waste of time?

She was abruptly torn for her thoughts when Doc scrambled up the stairs towards her, wearing a beam bigger than the sun. “C’ptn! C’ptn! It’s your lass, the Princess! C’ptn, she’s awake!”

Emma found herself smiling, quite against her will. She wasn’t happy that Regina was conscious again, she told herself. Emma cared little for the girl. Doc’s jolly demeanour was just making her smile, quite irrationally. “Can you escort her up here in handcuffs, as soon as Bug clears her please?”

“Aye, Captain!” Doc saluted with enthusiasm. It seemed almost out of sync with the grieving atmosphere on the ship, but Emma was grateful for it. Doc, an aid to Bug as well as a pirate, had seen a lot of death. He claimed constant exposure to it provided gallows’ humour, whatever that was.

Death. Emma’s gaze had been stubbornly avoiding the three bodies wrapped in canvas sacking, placed in the middle of the deck. There was at least a metre radius around them out of respect. Gus, Jim and Dopey. Three of her most loyal, unassuming pirates. Emma didn’t know how she was going to replace them, especially when the journey from the Sea of Monsters back to the Springlands was at least two month’s sail.

They would have to hold funerals; or what passed for a funeral on a pirate ship. Usually Emma would have the crew member’s closest friends say a few words, then roll the body away to disintegrate at sea. She would have Snow set fire to a dinghy with an arrow, but dinghies were expensive and this was a high-risk profession. Her trading costs would go through the roof.

If that wasn’t enough, Emma considered the pirates that were still in critical condition. Happy, who had lost half of his leg. Red, who’d suffered severe head trauma. A flush of guilt swept through the Captain. She hadn’t visited either, yet. Logically, she knew Bug or Doc would keep her informed about their progress, but after 240 years of service on the ship between the two of them, it felt so impersonal.

“Captain!” Someone yelled from below and Emma snapped her attention back to current proceedings. Doc was escorting their captive out into open air and for the first time Regina looked like a prisoner. A prisoner headed to the gallows, in fact. Head bowed, that stubborn pride drained from her body. She wore clothes that had evidently been sourced from the Quartermaster, as they were the general uniform of a pirate – a linen shirt, breeches and boots. And then there were her wrists, cuffed together and clanking.

Doc pulled her gently up the stairs to the Quarterdeck, which presented no challenge. Had Regina really given up all hope of escape, or was this just another act?

“Your belt, Captain,” Doc handed her the long, sturdy strip of leather, which Emma wound around her waist twice. She checked her weaponry; sword, knife… although she was missing its matching blade, which had been lost in Lord Dylan of West Beach’s thigh. Meanwhile, Doc was cuffing Regina to the rail, and then left promptly, which Emma appreciated. She still didn’t yet know how the Princess had been so badly injured. Why hadn’t she barricaded herself in Emma’s Quarters like any smart woman would do?

“Care to explain how a sailor with a pointy thing got close enough to run you through?” Emma asked casually, the strain caused by the events of the previous day showing in her tone.

“I wanted to help!” Regina spat. “I hate those Navy bastards.”

The Captain glanced over at where she was chained. The Princess was perhaps not as downtrodden as Emma had initially… feared? Did she really enjoy Regina’s fiery nature? _No_ , Emma decided. _She liked a Princess with a fiery nature; it set a great precedent for other pampered little girls to follow._

“Why?” Emma asked curiously. It had bugged her back when they had been escaping from Port Lost – Regina had chosen to go with them willingly rather than stay behind to be caught by the Navy. Why did she hold such a strong opinion? Other than just having been stabbed in the torso by one such sailor, of course.

Regina hesitated. “They’re responsible for Law Enforcement in Port Lost, but it’s a fetid wasteland. Not that there are many laws to enforce anyhow, but even the ones that are there are very loosely upheld. You pass ten people on the street. At least four are high on fairy dust. I used to go out back behind the brothel to dispose of waste and some nights I would find dead bodies. There were _cards_ advertising assassins in the windows of the grocery store.”

Emma grinned wryly. “They came after us because we’re harbouring fugitives. How’s that for ironic?”

Regina let out a low chuckle. Suddenly Emma had a flush of panic. What was she _doing_? She already felt bad enough sending the Princess back to Cora and her _bastard_ of a husband-to-be. How much worse would that be if Emma felt loyal to her? The Captain knew exactly how bad it would be. She wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

Reluctantly, she hardened her heart. “We’re going on a little fieldtrip, Princess. And before you ask, we’re going over there –“ Emma pointed out Hollow Isle. “And no, the fieldtrip is not optional.”

“Why?” Regina asked, mimicking Emma earlier.

The Captain rolled her eyes. “Because I don’t trust you with anybody else.” Emma withdrew her bunch of keys from her pocket. “C’mon.”

Just as she was descending the steps toward the dinghy at the side of the ship, Emma was accosted by a large ball attached to a petite blonde. “Unf, Ella!”

The highly pregnant girl they had picked up out of the sea before they had docked in Port Lost clung desperately to her arm. “Captain Swan, will you please let me go with you? _Please?_ ”

“Ouch!” Emma exclaimed, pulling her arm free of Ella’s tight grasp. “Ella, no. You should stay near a doctor, just in case.”

Ella growled, frustrated. “I want this thing out of me! Maybe being on solid ground will help!”

Emma shook her head. “No, Ella. You have to stay here. Understand?” Reluctantly, the pregnant girl nodded. Once she had taken care of that particular dilemma, Emma continued on downwards into her cabin. She sidestepped the clothes, paper and bottles that covered her floor like a carpet of debris and opened the adjoining door to her treasure room.

Some people had stands of clothes. Hats. The weird ones even had stands of stockings or garters. Emma had stands of blades. Selecting a lethal looking thing with a ruby embedded in its hilt, she shoved it through her belt. Though she was not expecting any trouble on this venture, it was reckless and impulsive to go anywhere without a spare knife in her belt.

When she re-emerged on deck, it was to find Regina waiting patiently by her door. “You didn’t invite me in,” Regina said by way of explanation. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Five years of cleaning a brothel,” Emma muttered, mostly to herself. “And it didn’t cure you of incorrigible manners?”

“Some of us were raised properly,” Regina taunted as Emma offered her a hand to help her into the gently swaying dinghy.

Emma laughed, long and loud. “I was raised by _nuns_ love. That was about as proper as it gets!”

Behind them, Belle hurried up to the dinghy carrying enough maps to start a decent bonfire. She was in danger of losing her balance and so Emma reached up and grabbed half, setting them down in the dinghy. “Sorry! Sorry, Captain,” Belle excused herself, sitting down with a thump. “Your archives on the Sea of Monsters are pretty sizeable.”

“Bloody stupid, really.” Emma admitted. “Considering I can’t even read the very lengthy captions.”

Regina looked astounded. “You were raised by nuns, and you’ve lived for, I don’t know, centuries! And you can’t _read?_ ”

“The nuns were a bit shady!” Emma agreed cheerfully, reaching up to the line which would lower the dinghy down to the ocean. Her biceps contracted as she pulled hard on the line and Emma did not miss the momentary flush in Regina’s cheeks. _Interesting_.

“Shady nuns?” Regina asked, brow furrowing. “Do you mean the dark shading of their habits?”

The Captain was working up a bit of a sweat, pulling on the line. “Nope!” She raised her voice as the winds of the ocean. “They all disappeared at midnight, so one day I followed them. They went to the basement and got high on fairy dust. There were a few animal sacrifices as well, but I didn’t stick around long after that.”

Regina made an unladylike face. Emma continued her tale, grinning wildly. “They tried to get me to properly join the convent when I turned eighteen, but I declined.”

“You had morals then?” Belle quipped, smiling into her maps.

“Nuns don’t get paid well!” Emma joked, as they finally hit the water with a splash. “No, even shady nuns were too virtuous for Emma Swan. I wanted to have adventures, gold and –“

“Carnal knowledge of both genders?” Regina asked dryly.

Emma flipped her knife over in her palm as Belle chortled and pointed it at Regina. “Aye, Princess. That too.” She directed Belle to grab the other oar, and then began to pull on her own side with a grimace. Emma hadn’t always hated rowing. In fact, when she was in the convent and afterwards when she was cleaning the brothel trying to raise enough money to buy passage out of Tortuga, she had dreamed of finding a little dinghy and rowing it away.

But two years later, after a gruesome adventure in the Sea of Monsters with Hook, they had been forced to row a dinghy from the wreckage of their ship all the way to Port Lost, Neverland. Which was ten days solid of rowing. Now, whenever Emma picked up an oar, which she mercifully didn’t have to do often, she felt the ghost of ten or twelve blisters on her thumbs.

By the time the rough bottom of the dinghy dragged across the wet sand of the beach fifteen minutes later, both Emma and Belle had worked up a considerable sweat. Emma pulled her linen sleeve across her forehead, parched. “Regina,” she began hoarsely. “Can you pass me that canvas sacking?”

“Nothing wrong with saying ‘please’,” the Princess grumbled as she hauled the sack over to Emma’s side of the boat.

“Please!” Emma squealed, in a mockingly poor imitation of Regina. She tore open the drawstrings and found within two canisters of fresh water, one of which she handed to Belle.

“Can I have some too?” A small voice asked from the other end of the boat. Emma looked up, prepared to ream out Regina for the pathetic-sounding request, but the Princess was looking puzzled as she glanced around.

Then, all of a sudden, the spare sacking behind Regina began to rustle and a blonde head emerged, just as Emma drew her sword.

It was Ella. And she was gasping for breath. And clutching her swollen stomach.

And the sacking she had been lying on was wet.

Captain Swan ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Why can’t people ever follow my orders?” She demanded, as Ella opened her mouth to scream.

 


	9. Some Men Have Died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.   
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

  _“The outcome of chaos can never be predicted. The only certainty it brings is the devastation it leaves in its wake.”_ – Mark Fish and Joe Fazzio

 

“So you’re telling me,” Emma worried at her lip. “That between the four of us, not only am I the only one who has given birth, but also the only one ever to even _see_ a birth?”

Ella let a low whining noise. Belle and Regina nodded, the former holding Ella’s hand and the latter sitting as far away as possible without being rude. Emma rolled her eyes and protested. “It was a magically induced birth 250 years ago! The whole thing took less than ten minutes because some _dick_ put a spell on me!”

Belle looked up from where she was rubbing soothing circles on Ella’s back and frowned at her.

“Blow the horn,” Emma decided.

Regina glanced at her quizzically. “Is that some sort of birthing terminology for check her vagina?”

_Of course the Princess used proper language,_ Emma thought to herself, resisting the urge to bury her head in the sand. She’d come a long way in 250 years. Commandeered her own ship. Maintained the loyalty of her crew. Even found her father. The 20-year-old who had fallen in love so easily and had been willing to throw her whole life away on a thief with a charming smile was gone. Long gone.

The only question… was the five-minute-mother still in there somewhere?

“I meant the literal horn!” Emma exclaimed, pointing towards her canvas sack of supplies. “Blow the horn in there and then empty it out so Ella can sit on it. And help her out of this bloody boat as well, if we’re going to do this on a beach we might as well do it on the actual sand!”

“Err, Captain?” Belle tapped her on the shoulder. A large, hollow booming sound erupted from the boat, where Regina was blowing into the horn. Emma couldn’t help but take in her flushed cheeks and grin.

“Yes?” Emma asked absently as she pulled the dinghy further up the beach, so Ella would be able to get out with as little discomfort as possible.

Belle’s eyes were widening in their sockets. “We’ve got company. And as dinner guests go… they look pretty unpleasant.”

Captain Swan whirled around the sand flying up beneath the heels of her boots. And then promptly wished she hadn’t bothered. For rushing towards them at a rate of knots, were the ugliest yet fruitiest clichéd islanders she had seen in her life.

Trying not to panic, Emma did a quick headcount. At least twenty, maybe more in the copse of woods behind them. She had to discount Ella from the fight for obvious reasons and Regina…

“Hey Princess!” Emma yelled out, still watching the advancing tide of wild human beings. “How are your combat skills?”

“I can’t even skewer raw meat!” Regina yelled back in reply, strain in her voice. When Emma looked back at the dinghy, she saw why. The girl was trying to single-handedly haul the pregnant woman onto the sand.

“Belle,” Emma said, directing her over to where Ella and Regina were struggling. The Captain judged the distance between them and the islanders and judged that they had about a minute at best before they were besieged. Emma ran back to the boat and braced one of the benches, before kicking at the place were bench and boat joined, hard. With a splintering sound, it came loose. Smiling, she kicked hard at the other joint which also came loose.

She lifted the plank of splintered wood free and handed it to her Navigator. Belle and Regina had succeeded in getting Ella out of the boat and had set her down on damp sand, just out of touch of the tide.

“Regina!” Emma yelled over the sound of primeval screams and the shore. “You need to look after Ella while Belle and I deal…” she snapped the second bench off the dinghy. “With the natives!”

Regina gawped at her, as Emma grabbed her sword from where she’d lain it down on the sand whilst Ella had started labour. “I cannot help this woman deliver a _baby!_ ” Regina half-screamed at her, standing under Ella’s groaning body. “I’m a Princess for crying out loud. I’ve never even _held_ a baby before!”

“Really?” Emma asked, bewildered. But she had no time left to be puzzled, because there was a berserk woman headed towards her faster than a lightning bolt out of the sky.

Now the use of the benches she had broken off the dinghy became apparent. Emma blocked the woman’s spear by spinning around the long wooden plank and then she thrust her sword into the islander’s belly. _First kill of the day_.

She jerked her bloodied sword out of the corpse and undercut a man with two knives in his hands and another between his rotted teeth. Another attacker who had gotten far too close received a long wooden plank to his belly, which knocked all the wind out of him and sent him careening backwards.

Having lost a weapon in her arsenal, Emma drew her first knife from belt. With two dead bodies already in front of her, she was gaining a fast reputation and a shield to blockade her from attack. The next man to approach her was fitter and faster, leaping like a goat over the corpses at her feet. She was only just quick enough to dodge his spear thrust, which skittered off her arm and drew up a welled line of blood.

Emma met his next downward strike on her plank and they both winced as the sharp blade bit into the wood. It took a moment to dislodge; one Emma used to her advantage to slide her knife between the wild man’s ribs.

“Captain!” Came a cry from nearby. Emma turned her head and gasped reflexively; Belle had a hand clasped over her thigh, which was bleeding copiously.

“Shit,” Emma muttered. “Get in the boat, Belle!”

Hoping the Navigator had done as she said, Emma began to back up towards the dinghy. The spears became blurred and Emma’s straining limbs seemed to move on their own to block them. She kept moving backwards until she hit the back of the boat and tumbled head over arse onto the wooden floor.

Emma scrambled to her feet just in time to meet a spear striking at her stomach, which she only just managed to knock away. Then, much to her relief, there was a whizzing sound and her attacker sank to his knees in the sand. An arrow had pierced his neck.

There was splashing from behind her and Emma dared not look, because she was still trying to stop her guts from exiting her body via spear. But she hoped like hell the splashes were the sound of reinforcements, because she alone couldn’t hold up fifteen wild men and women.

“Hey, Ella,” Emma could hear a soft voice talking from behind her that she recognised as Belle’s. “It’s going be okay. Bug is going to be here very soon.” Then the girl raised her voice. “Hang in there Captain!”

Emma grunted in acknowledgement, decapitating a woman with a melon on her head. When her head rolled away, so did the melon.

The sea and sand beneath them was stained red, with the islanders’ lifeblood, Belle’s and her own. Some ass who’d managed at some point to lay his hand on an actual knife had reopened the four-day-old wound on her calf, which had previously been courtesy of a Nevic Navy arrow. Now the puncture had been elongated by what looked like a very rusty knife. _If she got green rot, then god help her…_

Emma grabbed the knife itself out of her attackers grasp as he died of a sword cut to the belly. It was possible that one of these islanders had found Rumplestiltskin’s dagger and started using it for themselves. Though Emma knew that the magician was smart enough to make the islanders his first line of defence, rather than the final solution.

The war cries of her reinforcements rang loud in her ears and then Charming and Bashful splashed past, holding blades aloft and ready to get into the thick of things. Emma allowed herself a moment to step back and take stock. She still had her knives and her sword, the latter of which was coated in blood and innards. Her crew… Charming and Bashful, a good team, were fending well for themselves. Her Quartermaster, Snow, was useful as ever, taking down islander after islander with arrows and slick efficiency. Belle, on the floor of the boat behind her, pale as a sheet and losing blood fast. Regina… wading out with Ella towards the dinghy the reinforcements had arrived in. Bug was sitting there, looking helpless.

Emma had often wondered how such a high calibre of surgeon would choose to join a pirate ship, especially when they couldn’t swim and preferred their own sophisticated company to the rowdy crew. She assumed he’d committed some heinous crime, but Bug had never seen fit to confess to her or anybody else, so she was left with only her own theories.

Now, she faced a dilemma. Join the fight and help Charming, Bashful and Snow beat off the islanders? Bind Belle’s wound before it was too late? Or dive into the water and help Regina, who was now in open water and struggling to carry the heavily pregnant woman, even with flotation?

Looking back at her Navigator[A1] , Emma realised who was in the most immediate danger. She unbuckled her belt and began to remove attachments, her other knife, canteen of water, tankard of rum, compass, telescope, large ring of keys and pouch that had previously contained the magic bean. She tied the belt in a loose half-knot three inches above Belle’s thigh wound.

“What’re you doing?” Belle asked foggily, her eyes closed. Without hesitation, Emma reached up to her face and slapped her, hard. “Ow!” She exclaimed, eyes darting open.

“Stay conscious or you’ll be screwed,” Emma grimly informed her, poking through the detritus that usually littered the bottom of the dinghy. Finding what she was looking for, she placed a long stick of wood over the half-knot on Belle’s thigh. “This is gonna hurt.” She finished the full knot on top of the stick, then twisted it round. Belle clenched her teeth down, but Emma could tell she was struggling hard to contain screams.

Emma tied the tourniquet in place on her Navigator’s leg. “Clean off the blood with salt water. Then keep an eye on the wound. If it keeps bleeding, that’s when you panic.” Belle nodded once, and Emma stood up.

She executed a functional racer’s dive over the back end of the dinghy, into the open water where Regina was struggling hard to keep both herself and Ella afloat. Emma struck out at a lightning fast pace, swimming as quickly as she could towards the Princess that was gasping for breath and the woman who looked like she was about to give birth to her baby in the deep blue ocean.

Emma reached the pair just as Regina looked like she was about to give up and sink beneath the surface. She grasped Ella’s torso in her arms, above her baby bump but below her ribcage and kicked out using only her legs towards the other dinghy.

With Emma helping, it was a much quicker process. Regina, who looked exhausted, only swam weakly alongside them, asking Ella if the baby was coming yet every thirty seconds. Finally, the Captain snapped. “When she has to start pushing, I’m sure she’ll tell us!” The dinghy with Bug in it was, mercifully, only another five feet away and Emma pushed hard on that last distance, desperate to get back to the fight and help out.

Between her and Regina, and with Bug’s help on the other end, they just about managed to heave Ella out of the water and onto the safety of the dinghy. Regina made to push herself up onto the boat too, but Emma’s hand on her forearm halted her in her tracks.

“What?” She demanded, without any of the respect due to the Captain of the ship she was serving on.

“Belle’s badly injured and I need you to look after her until this is done,” Emma explained.

“Regina?” Ella interrupted drowsily from where she lay on the boat. “Where you going?”

The Princess hauled herself back onto the dinghy and swept a lock of damp, salty hair off Ella’s forehead. “Just to go and look after Belle, honey. I’ll be back soon.” She smiled down at the woman in labour. “I’ll be back just as soon as your bitch of a Captain sees fit to let me.”

“Ouch!” Emma mock-grasped her heart as Ella giggled weakly. Regina clambered back off the side of the boat and hit the water with an ungainly splash. When she re-surfaced, Emma raised an eyebrow. “Shall we?”

Regina nodded curtly and struck out, swimming in long, paced strokes. Emma easily kept up with her pace, even after her earlier exertion. She flipped over onto her back and pulled ahead so she could see the Princess’s face. “So are you a casual user of profanity or am I just a special case?”

But Regina refused to rise to the bait and kept swimming peacefully.

“Fine,” Emma made a face, flipped back over and pulled way ahead, swimming back towards the battle at as fast a pace as she could maintain.

Her clothes were heavy on her body as she dragged herself out of the tide and onto the sandy beach. She reached to her belt to draw her sword, then felt a paralysing panic as she realised that it wasn’t there. Of course… she had taken off all her belt blades when binding Belle’s thigh with said belt.

With a sigh, she reached up into both sleeves with opposite hands and withdrew a pair of sapphire-embedded knives. They were slim and delicate, for ladies not pirates. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had first met the widowed Princess Aurora and had almost been eviscerated by these twins. Of course she had knocked the Princess out and stolen them, but that had been the seedling of her admiration and respect for Princess Aurora of Summerlands and Autumnlands. But that was a different story.

Now Aurora’s stolen blades were in her hands, Emma set about using them.  She cut across one man’s gullet and another abdomen, killing the first and incapacitating the second. It had been a while since she had fought with two knives and she tried to remember what Hook’s old arms master had taught her. The Huntsman had been a lost and tortured soul but put any kind of weapon in his hands and he’d know exactly what it was and how to use it. Emma might have fallen for him for his glamour alone if she had not been carrying Bae’s baby at the time.

_Get in close_ , he’d always urged her. _If you have the shorter weapon, get in close._

Well, in comparison to the hunky spears of the islanders, her slim little sapphire knives were certainly shorter. Emma ducked another clumsy swipe of the spear and moved in, dealing her bearded attacker three quick strikes – thigh, groin and torso. He fell before her and she stepped over him, confident he would be getting up any time soon.

Her next opponent was perhaps the scariest vision she had ever seen. Her adrenaline-pumped brain estimated him to be at least seven feet tall, with muscles like baseballs and a beard so long he had wrapped it around his torso to keep it out of the way.

_Get in close_ , the Huntsman whispered in her ear. Emma wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to get anywhere near this guy.

A big lumbering fist came out of nowhere to punch her lights out as a spear thrust forward at her belly. Emma dropped to the ground to avoid both and watched thoughtfully as the Giant became slightly unbalanced before pulling it back.

That gave her an idea.

Emma distracted him by dancing around him and dodging his clumsy, but powerful attacks with gracious speed, all the while watching for an opening. It came when his beefy hands lunged for her neck – to strangle her maybe. She ducked underneath, grabbed his hips and brought her knee up with all the strength she possessed. Her joint impacted with his groin, hard and the islander let out a long, almost inhuman wail.

There was a chuckle from behind her as the Giant fell to the ground, causing a mini-earthquake. Emma rolled her arm over like she was pitching a ball and brought her knife right down into his throat. Blood, thicker than the batter Granny used to coat fish on a Friday night, oozed from his neck.

Only then did Emma turn to face the one who had giggled.

“Well,” Snow commented, amusement sparkling wildly in her eyes. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

Emma elbowed her. “You had to make my beautiful victory clichéd, didn’t you?”

Snow looked down at the dead man, thick blood gurgling onto the sand and glassy eyes staring up at the baking hot sun. “Only you could see something so despicable as beautiful.”

Captain Swan followed her Quartermaster as she strode off towards Charming and Bashful, who were dispatching the last of the islanders. Emma wasn’t crazy. She saw the beauty in a clear tide, in Princesses on their 18th birthday, in cornfields that stretched for miles or a fruit market full of both exotic strangers and locals. But she also saw beauty in less conventional places. In death. In whores. In a shipwreck. Even in savages like these, who knew only basal human instinct.

She wasn’t crazy. _Maybe just a little damaged._

Looking over at the last dregs of the fight, Emma could see that they had it in hand. She moved over to where Belle and Regina sat in the dinghy and hauled herself in. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her body, the pain from the re-opened wound in her thigh was making itself heard.

Regina, with her arm around Belle’s waist, had managed to neatly bind her wound in clean white bandages. “Where’d you get them?” Emma asked curiously.

The Princess shrugged. “Belle uses bandages to bind her breasts, so we unravelled that and cleaned her wound.”

Emma nodded, impressed. She hadn’t even thought of that herself. Looking down at her aching calf, she winced. The bleeding was waning, but it still looked nasty and she didn’t want the wound to become infected. “It’s not a bad idea.” She reached under her linen shirt to the binding she used on her own breasts. Hers was leather, rather than Belle’s soft, clean cotton, but it would do the job just as well. She noted in amusement how Regina averted her eyes and her cheeks flushed, even though Emma still wore her linen shirt over the top.

The leather binding came loose and Emma tugged it out from under her shirt. The wound had already been well cleaned by salt water from her two dips into the water earlier, but Emma splashed half a canteen of clean water over it, just in case. Then she wrapped the leather round and round her calf until she could tie off the ends.

Just as she finished that little task, her Boatswain, Quartermaster and Bashful joined them, looking exhausted but satisfied at a job well done. “What’s the plan now, Captain?” Charming asked her, sheathing his sword back in its scabbard.

“Same as before those islanders showed up,” Emma wiped her forehead on a piece of her shirt. “Belle, Regina and I will search for the dagger while you take Ella back to the ship.”

Immediately, a roar of outrage went up. Charming wanted to stay and help. Snow wondered how she could be so selfish, keeping a badly injured Belle with her on the hunt. Regina wanted to go back with Ella and help her through her labour.

“Okay… stop!” Emma yelled loudly, over all three of their voices. “Charming, you can stay if you want. Snow, I need Belle to find the dagger, and she has a couple of hours before any serious damage will set in. Regina, you’re my captive. Your ass is mine, which means you do whatever I want you to.”

The crew dared not argue more after Captain Swan had just asserted her authority, but she could tell from the set of Snow’s mouth and Regina’s hurt-filled eyes that they were not happy with her. Snow she could understand. Regina she could not; it wasn’t in a captive’s job description to be _happy_.

It was grudgingly that Snow set out back towards the boat where Ella was giving birth. It was clear she resented not taking Belle with her. Regina stayed behind even more grudgingly. It was clear her main desire was to dive off the back of the boat and swim until she could help Ella deliver her baby into the world.

Emma spared a glance at Belle. She looked a little blue around the edges and clammy, but determined to help. The Captain couldn’t help but wonder what endgame Belle was imagining if she was this determined to find the only thing that could kill her lover at the expense of her own health.

Charming held out a hand to help the Navigator out of the boat and onto the sand, but as soon as she put weight on her left leg, Belle crumpled. Held only by Charming’s muscled arms, she drooped wearily. Emma merely smiled. “It looks like we’ve found a use for Charming after all.”

He tipped his pirate’s hat at her mockingly and ducked underneath Belle, hoisting her up so her abdomen lay on his shoulder. “Bloody hell!” She gasped, taken completely by surprise.

“So,” Emma began. “Any idea where your beloved hid his precious dagger?”

 

“This is ridiculous.”

“Shut up, Princess.”

“I mean… _really_ ridiculous.”

Emma sighed. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut your precocious little mouth…”

“You’ll what?” Regina demanded, leaning on her shovel, sweat dripping from her brow. “You can’t kill me, Swan. You _need_ me too much.”

“I need the money your mother’s going to give me in exchange for your sweet little ass,” Emma corrected her. “I certainly don’t need you.”

Regina took a swallow of water from the container lying on the ground between them, then half-heartedly buried her shovel back into the sandy earth. “Your head’s so big I’m surprised you can get in and out of your cabin. You need someone like me, who doesn’t have to do everything you say.”

Emma smirked at her, driving her own shovel into the ground. “Are you suggesting I keep you around for the sole purpose of deflating my ego every so often? I’m not sure that’s worth 50,000 gold pieces.”

They worked in silence again for a little while, until Regina repeated her earlier statement. “This is ridiculous. We’re digging under a tree that ‘has an aura of power’. We’re more or less assuming your magician buried his dagger here because it’s a nice, old tree!”

Frustrated, Emma threw her shovel down, where it stuck into the Earth. “I _know_ , but unfortunately it’s all we have to go on!”

Regina rolled her eyes back at Emma. “You say _I’m_ naïve and yet you’re so willing to take this girl, Rumplestiltskin’s _lover,_ at her word when she says she’ll help you find the one thing that will kill him! How do you know she’s not purposely misleading you!”

“I trust Belle!” Emma snapped back. “Our crew is like a family. She’s like my little sister!”

“And yet given the choice,” Regina countered, leaning on her own shovel again. “How many people choose family over love!”

“We both chose neither,” the Captain reminded her, clenching her teeth as she dug down further.

“ _You_ chose neither,” Regina pointed out bitterly. “I had no love for King Leopold.”

Emma swallowed, reminded again of that night, which seemed like a lifetime ago but in reality was only two days. Regina had thrashed and screamed and begged him to stop. But Emma knew he hadn’t. She knew exactly what had happened to Regina and why she had run away from what seemed like to most to be the perfect life.

Thankfully, she was saved from the soured conversation by the thunk of metal on wood. Emma looked up at her Princess, smirking triumphantly. “Guess I was right, after all!”

She unearthed a small wooden chest with one hand and lifted it up out of the ground and onto her lap. Biting her lip in sudden anticipation, she clicked open the latch and swung open the lid. Inside there was a full pouch, a skin of rum and a scroll of parchment with some fancy letters across the top.

“You can read right?” Emma asked her, cheeks glowing scarlet against her will. It did embarrass her, how uneducated she was. But it was only at times like this when it really affected her.

Regina took the scroll from Emma, and bypassed the opportunity to make a snide comment. The Captain was thankful and surprised – had it been Regina with the weakness Emma would have been all over it with sass in a second. That was when she realised – Regina had told her earlier that she had no skill with a sword or a blade and Emma knew she was only an adequate swimmer – and yet she had held off taunting her about it.

How odd.

“What does it say?” Emma asked, shaking herself out of her epiphany.

Regina shook her head and smiled down at the paper. “It’s some ancient sacrificial rite for warding off evil spirits. It evidently didn’t work on any of those islanders.”

“No,” Emma replied slowly, taking the parchment back off her and rolling it up. “I guess it didn’t.”

Their disappointment at having found something which was so obviously _not_ what they were looking for was interrupted by the sound of footfalls. Charming emerged from behind a bush, still carrying a blue-tinted Belle in his arms.

“We’re running out of time,” Charming informed them grimly. “It’s been at least an hour. If we don’t get Belle back soon, she’ll have permanent damage.”

“And every day we stay here trying to find this bloody dagger is another day spent in the Sea of Monsters!” Emma rounded on him. “You know how easily a sea serpent could find us? Sirens? The Kraken itself? I will make sure Belle gets back in time, but at the moment the potential damage she could sustain doesn’t compare to all of our deaths.” She spat the last words out, making sure he understood. As Captain, it was her job to make these kind of unpleasant calls. She did it so others wouldn’t have to, and she didn’t appreciate being contested.

The entire argument seemed to go right over her Navigator’s head, which was indeed worrisome. “What’s in the chest?” She craned her neck, trying to see inside. Emma held it up to show it to her.

“Nothing of importance. A scroll. A purse. Rum.” She snagged the purse of coins and the rum from the chest, shut it again and set it back down in the ground.

Regina looked outraged. “You can’t just take that! Somebody obviously buried that for safe-keeping.”

“Well, obviously,” Emma repeated, pocketing the purse and taking a long swig from the skin of rum. “Want some?”

Regina was saved from finding a witty comeback when Belle gasped and clapped a hand over her head. “I’ve been so stupid!” She exclaimed, eyes shining with realisation. “Rumple wouldn’t just bury his most prized possession in the ground like any random pirate with two brain cells to rub together.”

 

“Hey!” Both Emma and Charming protested, having buried numerous things on various islands to ‘one day retrieve’.

“I suppose,” Belle’s voice was strained as if she was in serious pain. “There could be two places where he would have hidden it. Act-actually in this tree,” her breath was laboured. “Or in Hollow Lagoon.”

Emma tried to picture the map of Hollow Isle, which was actually shaped like a key, in her mind. “Hollow Lagoon? That’s the lake thing in the middle of this ring of trees, right?”

“Yes,” Belle nodded.

“Regina and I will take the lake,” Emma looked concernedly at Charming. “Help Belle with this old tree… but if she gets any worse, you have to take her back to the _Blade_.”

“Aye, Captain,” Charming nodded. The last they saw of the two was Belle knocking at the old tree like a woodpecker and Charming carrying her round and round it in circles.

 

Regina was uncharacteristically inelegant as they trekked through the wood. Her floor-length dress caught on twigs and leaves and she often stumbled, unaccustomed to rough terrain. “So,” she began, half-yelling from behind. “How do we search a lagoon?”

“I’ll be doing the searching!” Emma yelled back. “You need to watch the lake. If you see anything, mermaids, sirens, alligators… you make sure I know immediately!”

“Why are mermaids more important?” Regina asked curiously.

But Emma didn’t hear as she had just broken out of the line of trees and seen the Hollow Lagoon for the very first time.

It was breath-taking. The water was clear, with a turquoise tint. The corals were colourful and the shoals of fish glinted beneath the surface. Behind her, Emma heard Regina pull to a stop and suddenly intake breath.

“You think the dagger which could kill the darkest magician in Neverland and Evermore is hidden in this lagoon?” Regina questioned sceptically.

“I don’t,” Emma reminded her. “Belle thinks so. And she knows Rumplestiltskin better than either of us.”

“But you’ve known him longer.” Regina said quietly. She sat down at the edge of the lagoon and took of her sensible leather shoes, which Emma recognised as belonging to her own wardrobe. Her toes wiggled out from underneath the dress and were dipped cautiously into the water.

Emma was fixated on the Princess’s delicate little extremities as she spoke. “When you’re in the piracy business, love, who you’ve screwed goes a lot further than who you know.”

“Must you always be so crass, Swan?” Regina asked absently, reclining on the sand and sub-consciously pushing her breasts out for Emma’s increasingly more ravenous gaze.

Well, _two could play at that game_.

“Remember what I said about watching for potential danger,” Emma said sharply, as Regina yawned and stretched out in the sun.

She turned her back on the Princess and then, in one smooth motion, stripped off her linen shirt, baring her torso to the sunshine and her back to Regina. She could feel the burn of the girl’s gaze on her and couldn’t hide the smirk as she loosened the drawstring of her breeches and kicked off her own shoes.

Then Emma hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her breeches, tugging them over the curve of her behind and all the way down her long legs. She could even hear Regina’s audible gasp. Leaving a small pile of clothes on the ground, Emma jogged up to the edge of the water and segued into her racer’s dive.

_Right,_ Emma thought, still chuckling internally, _now time to actually get down to business._


	10. And Some Are Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.   
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Guilt is a powerful affliction. You can try to turn your back on it, but that's when it sneaks up behind you and eats you alive.”_ – Kenneth Fink

 

Captain Swan’s blonde head re-surfaced for what felt like the hundredth time since she had begun her search of the Lagoon for Rumplestiltskin’s dagger. (Unbeknownst to her, Regina had kept count, almost drooling from the corner of her mouth at the sight of tendrils of blonde hair clinging to damp skin, like a mermaid. She had only re-surfaced fourteen times).

“The coral is clear!” Emma yelled back at her, diving back under water to search some loose gravel underneath the reefs. This was miserable. Why would Rumplestiltskin ever hide his dagger in such a beautiful place? Although, she admitted, there would be something faintly poetic about it all.

It was as she accidentally cut her finger across a sharp piece of rock that she heard muffled sounds from above the surface. Emma found firm footing on the ground and pushed off, propelled through the depths quickly and breaking the surface in a second.

And then, much to her surprise, she saw Allison, the whore from Tortuga, floating gently in the water next to her. A siren… _great._ They were supposed to take on the form of someone you desired so badly that to not touch their lips with your own would cause physical pain. However, this one hadn’t quite hit Emma accurately.

However, Regina, standing on the bank, looked dazed and lustful. “Emma?” She called out, sounding almost inebriated. “Why are there two of you?”

Emma fought back a fit of laughter. The siren had taken on her own form for Regina, which was quite the compliment. Did the Princess really find her to be irresistible even in the face of death?

The siren, who still mimicked Allison the whore’s features swam through the clear waters towards her. “What’s wrong, Emma?” She asked huskily. “Don’t you want me?” She lunged forward, but the Captain stopped their lips making contact with her fingertip.

The siren frowned at her and then her features began to swirl and change almost nauseatingly. Allison’s hair shrank back into the siren’s head and her features sharpened, becoming more and more angular until Killian Jones stood before her, dripping wet and undeniably handsome.

“I’ll give you the best lay of your life, love,” he promised her in that charming, cocky tone of his. “All you have to do first…” he got in close. “Is kiss me.”

Emma shook her head again and backed away, smiling. “Try again.”

But just then, there was a loud splash from the other end of the lagoon and Emma shot a worried look at her captive. Regina was wading towards them as fast as she could, weighed down by sodden clothes. “Daniel!” She gasped, choking on salt water. “Daniel, come back to me!”

Quick as a shot, the Captain drew a clawing siren into her arms and put a knife against her throat. “Stop playing with her. I’m your victim.”

“That’s right…” The siren turned her head, which was no longer all cheekbones and thick eyebrows. Instead it was plump, full lips and wide eyes staring up at her. “Save me, Captain.” The fake Regina begged endearingly. “Save me from the monsters.”

The real Regina was closing in on them, still seeing somebody else. “Daniel,” she murmured, tears and splashes of salt water merging together on her cheeks.

Feeling only momentary guilt, Emma slit the siren’s throat with her belt knife. She exhaled long and slow as the woman, now revealed to be a redhead with odd purple eyes, fell dead into the water with a splash.

“You okay?” She turned to ask Regina, who stared at the place where the siren had sunk below the surface, red blood still billowing from her corpse.

“What was that?” The Princess asked, eyes wide. “It was you, but it wasn’t you. Then it was…”

“Who?’ Emma prompted, curious as to who the girl had seen to make her lose her mind like that. _Daniel_ , she had been calling out for. A special friend in Neverland? An old lover from the Springlands?

Regina seemed then to regain control of her normal faculties. Whatever or _whoever_ had shaken her out of her normal composure was gone now, and so was sensitive Regina… for now. “None of your business,” she snarked, then turned on her heel and stamped towards the shore (admittedly difficult to do in a lagoon, but the Princess pulled it off.)

“Hey, Captain! Princess!” Charming appeared at the edge of the forest, Belle in his arms. “We found Rumplestiltskin’s dagger!”

The way Belle told the story was that they had spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out if the tree was hollow by knocking on the wood, then feeling for hinges where there might be a secret compartment. However, in the end it was Charming, leaning on the tree tiredly after long exertion that caused the force-sensitive latch to trigger and reveal the dagger, tucked away in the bark.

However, once Emma got her father away from Belle and Regina and took the dagger from his possession, he admitted to the truth. He and Belle had spotted the tiny compartment within minutes of first inspecting the tree and had spent a good twenty minutes trying to figure out how to open it. Eventually, much to their humiliation, they had found a tiny knot in the wood which depressed and opened the compartment.

“Don’t tell her I told you,” the Boatswain begged her. “It’s humiliating enough as it is.”

“I won’t,” Emma promised him, just as the other two members of their party rejoined them. Belle spotted the dagger in the Captain’s hands and her face fell. Emma smiled at them all, ignoring her Navigator’s obvious indecision about the situation she had found herself in. “Time to tell Hook I’ve done his dirty work for him, I think.” She reached for the tattoo of the compass on the inside of her left wrist.

Part of the charm of Neverland was the magic which was sold so freely on stalls and in marketplaces in all the big towns and cities. Magic was a fickle friend. It worked in Neverland and the Sea of Monsters, for Rumplestiltskin in his little merchant house in Tortuga and on both _The Bloody Blade_ and _The Jolly Roger._ But for most of Evermore, magic was a figment of imagination and about as real as old King Midas’s gold-tinted hair.

The magic she had in the tattoo on her wrist had been woven by a hedge witch on the streets of Anise, which was the capital of Neverland. Emma had been assisting Hook on one of his little trips into the city – which usually ended in somebody dying. Such were the consequences of earning a living as an assassin.

They had been checking out an escape route down an alley when the witch had dangled out of her window and offered them a communication system. They already had the tattoos – Emma on her wrist and Hook on his shoulder blade. The witch charmed them so that whenever one of them rubbed their own tattoo with the ball of their thumb, it would make the other’s tattoo burn. For centuries, when Emma and Hook had separated, that had been how they had summoned one another for a catch-up.

But just as Emma was about to place the ball of her thumb on the centre of the inked compass…

“Wait -” Belle grabbed her arm, leaning so far forward that Charming almost unbalanced and fell over. “If you give Captain Hook that dagger… my – I mean, Rumplestiltskin will die. For sure.”

“I made a deal,” Emma told her, not insensitively. “I can’t go back on my word. If you want to help your lover, I suggest you do so when the situation is not quite so iron-bound.”

“I understand,” Belle muttered, releasing Captain Swan’s arm. Freed again, Emma gently rubbed the ball of her thumb over all the points and the centre of the compass, knowing that somewhere, Hook’s shoulder blade was burning.

It was then, while Emma was holding the Magician’s dagger and feeling the fierce flame of victory, that Belle fell unconscious.

“Shit,” Charming swore, shaking her from side to side. He shot a panicked look at Emma. “We left it too long.” Emma was at his side instantly, her head cocked and ear close to Belle’s open mouth. Smiling momentarily when she heard and felt inhalation and exhalation, she straightened back up and nodded to her father.

“Back to the dinghy,” Emma ordered. “As fast as possible!”

Charming took off, his long legs stretching out and pounding the forest floor. He was gone from view almost instantaneously. Emma herself only took a moment to stuff the dagger through her belt and make sure that Regina was running too, before she also took off.

It felt good to run again. Emma was essentially fit, swimming most days. But she spent most of her life at sea, and it was only when she made port that she got the chance to run. Her neglected leg muscles stretched out and burned underneath her. Careful to watch her step, Emma bounded past trees and bushes, searching for the open sky, the sand and the sea.

Then she was breaking loose of the tree line and jogging down the sandy beach towards the dinghy, where Charming was a speck laying his friend down in the wooden sanctity.

“Still okay?” Emma enquired breathlessly as she skidded to a halt by the dinghy. The blue tinge Belle had boasted before had worsened and she was clearly in pain, even while unconscious.

Charming looked conflicted. “Do you think we should remove your tourniquet?” His hands hovered over the leather buckle of her belt, as if to undo it at a second’s notice if required to. Emma could easily understand his fretful anxiety - if they left it on too long Belle could lose her injured leg.

“No,” Emma decided. “If we take it off, she could bleed out. Let’s just get back to the ship as quickly as possible and Bug can do his best for her.”

As if on cue, Regina arrived behind her, coughing and spluttering wildly, red-faced. Emma couldn’t hide her surprise at the normally staunch and stoic Princess attempting to cough up her innards onto the soft white sand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Regina doubled over, gasping for breath. She mumbled something that sounded like ‘fucking pirates’ and ‘fucking running’, but Emma knew she must have misheard. The Princess never indulged in profanity, despite now being surrounded by bad influences.

Emma began to push at the dinghy, where Charming was holding Belle against his chest in a futile attempt to stop her from being jostled. “Get in,” she ordered Regina, but the girl merely shook her head, looking too exhausted to even walk, let alone clamber into a rackety old wooden boat. Growling in frustration and worry for her Navigator, the Captain grabbed Regina’s underarms and hoisted her up and into the boat. The Princess squealed in surprise. “If you must act like some over-developed ape, at least have the grace to set me down gently!”

“My apologies, your Highness,” Emma snarked back, giving the boat a heave and feeling relieved when it finally slid away from the wet sand to bob gently on the tide surrounding Hollow Isle.

She leapt over the side and onto the wooden floor, using only one hand to propel herself and still graceful as a gazelle. Emma pretended not to notice Regina’s gaze fixated on her, in anger, lust or envy she didn’t know. Instead, she grabbed an oar and handed the Princess the other, pushing the instrument into the water at as fast a pace as she could manage.

Oddly, Regina managed to keep up with her the whole way back to the ship. Emma, solely out of curiosity, snuck a peak at her arms. But of course, the loose dress she wore masked them. Then a tidal wave of guilt rushed up within her. There she was again, as selfish as ever. It was her biggest flaw – Emma only ever truly cared about her own fate. Here was one of her own, a woman she’d casually identified as a younger sister… and she was contemplating the biceps of an attractive _captive_!

Gritting her teeth, Emma pulled the oar longer and deeper, burrowing away into the deepest corner of her dark mind she could find until the burn in her hands was a dull throb and the sting of fresh air on her battered skin made no more than the barest impact.

“Emma,” there was a hand tapping her shoulder lightly. “Emma, we’re back at the _Blade._ ”

With an intensity and speed that was almost frightening, the Captain snapped out of her deep, dark recessive corner and winced at the light reverberating off her retinas. “Where did you go?” Charming asked her, attempting to be glib.

“None of your business,” Emma snapped back, not as in control as she posed to be. She didn’t want another life on her conscience – and there she went again… _selfish._ Making Belle endanger her life to find a weapon that would kill the girl’s lover, all so Emma could pay a debt. _Selfish._ Enabling marital rape for money. _Selfish_. Abandoning her own son to learn the identity of one of her parents. _Selfish. Selfish. Selfish._

Emma wrapped an arm around Belle’s waist as Charming did the same on the other side and together, they hauled her up the rope ladder that had been thrown down for them to board the ship. As soon as the trio were slumped on deck, two with over-exertion and one unconscious, people surrounded them. Belle was taken down to Bug and Charming was beginning to recount their story, but Emma just wanted to get away from it all.

Remembering the 50,000 gold coins and hating herself for it, she only took a moment to whisper to Red to keep an eye on Regina before she was stumbling down the steps to her Quarters.

 Slowly, gingerly, Emma took stock of herself. First she unbuckled her soft leather boots. They were sodden and stiff from being dowsed twice in salt water. Then she undid her breeches. The lower left leg of the fabric had been ripped away to expose the wound in her calf, so they were useless now. Emma lobbed them off the edge of the bed, uncaring as to where they landed.

Then came her linen shirt. Torn in two places, it was mendable. She folded it onto a chair, perhaps for Granny to darn later. Now Emma was all but naked, the only material left on her body was the leather she usually used to bind her breasts. Instead, it was tied around the re-opened wound on her calf. Wincing, she loosened the knot and began to unwind the leather.

The last vestiges of the fabric were stuck to her wound, glued by blood and Emma grimaced as she eased it away from her marred skin. Then, steeling herself and re-enforcing the thought that she had seen _much, much_ worse, Emma inspected the damage.

It was ugly. There was at least a four inch gash in her calf and it already looked inflamed. That would become infected very quickly. Knowing what she had to do, Emma removed the tankard of rum from her belt. She unbuckled the sheath of her dagger from her belt and shoved it in her mouth to bite down on when the pain came. Then, squeezing her eyes shut, she poured the alcohol over her injury.

The pain was immediate and burning. Had Emma not been biting down with all the force she possessed on her dagger sheath, she felt certain her screams would have brought the ceiling down. Her nerves in her leg were on _fire_ and her whole body was trembling until the pain abated enough for her to remove the makeshift gag.

Almost as soon as she had done so, Emma chugged the rest of her tankard, then yanked open her bedside drawer to find another. Her other injuries were not so serious. A spear had skate off her arm earlier – it had scabbed over already and wouldn’t likely be giving her any problems. Likewise, the cut in her finger from scrabbling around in the gravel at the bottom of Hollow Lagoon was insignificant.

The stitches in her side had held, thank God, and the wound on her other arm would also heal in time. Emma sighed in relief at the receding of the pain. It seemed like it was coming from all over her body in one relentless piercing throbbing sensation. The rum was good, but tonight it wasn’t going to cut it.

Limping over to the portside of her Quarters, Emma pulled up a loose floorboard. Underneath, she found the bottle she had been saving for a rainy day like this. The Nevic vendor which had sold her this on the black market had boasted that it was infused with dark fairy dust, which would make her redefine ‘oblivion’.

Now, Emma popped off the cork, poured herself a skin of the stuff and raised it up to nobody in particular. “To Belle’s good health,” she toasted, ashamed that she was consumed with her own pain like always. Then she wrapped her lips around the opening of the skin and drank deeply.

 

It was daylight.

Emma knew this because her eyes felt like a burning volcano had just decided to erupt behind her retinas whenever her eyelids fluttered open.

Her mouth was dry, oh so very dry. Emma tried to wet her tongue and found the acrid taste of vomit there. She grimaced and almost gagged disgustedly. What had happened to her?

Her leg hurt like all hell, her arms were both aching, her side felt like she had been impaled on a stick to be roasted and the worst of the lot was her temples… which were throbbing so hard Emma felt sure they must be vibrating.

Ever so slowly, she lifted her head up off the floor to inspect her surroundings. She was in her Quarters, good, and alone… even better. Hopefully that meant nobody else had been privy to the horror Emma had made of herself last night.

Beside her there was a pool of her own vomit on the floor, as well as a little blood. Had she re-opened her stitches? Emma panicked as she checked her side, noticing that she was stark naked in the process. No, her stitches were still intact – almost a miracle considering what she had put them through in the last twenty four hours.

The smashed glass over by the porthole was what completed the story for Emma. It was scattered all over the floor, but there were no liquid stains on the floor so – Emma clutched a dramatic hand to her forehead – she had drunk the whole bottle. Well that explained the nausea and the headache.

Feeling the aching stiffness in every joint, Emma hauled her throbbing, battered body off the floor one limb at a time. She hobbled over to her dresser and began to weakly search a drawer, looking for the bandages she knew were stowed at the bottom. Finding what she was looking for, she tore a length and wrapped it securely round her calf.

It was only then that she dressed herself, flinching every so often at the taste of vomit in her mouth. When she had re-buckled her belt, Emma reached for the canteen of water clipped there and glugged half of it. The clean fluid washed her mouth out and it was almost a merciful sensation.

There was a loud knock on the door and Emma winced as the sound reverberated through her head, bouncing off her temples. “Come in,” she called weakly, remembering she hadn’t had a chance to clear the vomit and smashed glass off the floor just yet.

Her door swung open and, it was red-streaked ebony hair and inquisitive eyes that met her gaze, not her father, step-mother or somebody even more embarrassing like Bug or Regina. Emma blinked twice. Hadn’t Red sustained a head trauma? Was this a hallucination? “Are you okay now?” She croaked.

“I’m feeling much better…” Her Master Gunner trailed off as she took in the vomit, the smashed glass and the way her Captain walked stiffly. “Belle’s awake. She’s asking for you.”

Emma twitched as a flood of memories swept through her brain. The tourniquet she had tied. _Just a little bit longer_ , she had kept saying to herself. Belle… unconscious and blue-tinged. The dagger… reflexively, Emma checked her belt. The dagger was still firmly stowed there, thank God. She shook herself and refocused on the present. “Is she okay? Did Bug have to…?”

“No,” Red shook her head in the negative. “But he said just twenty or so minutes longer and she’d have been dead.”

Emma let a low exhale. She’d always known she was reckless and selfish, but this was a new low, even for her. “I-I’m sorry… Red… I didn’t-“

Red held up her hand, coming to sit on the bed next to her. “Don’t apologise to me. I understand a little bit about being careless with other people’s lives. Apologise to Belle.”

Emma lingered a little on the bedspread, but after a second or two, got to her feet. Red ushered her out the door. “Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clean it up. Go! Go on.”

Wondering when she had become a slave to the wills of her crew, Emma dragged her weary feet up the steps towards deck. Wincing in preparation of being blinded by the sunlight, Emma slipped above the surface of the ship.

She waited a second, and when it became clear she wasn’t going to be borderline assaulted and demanded an explanation of, she scurried across the deck and down the spiral steps towards Bug’s little medical bay.

Belle was obvious from the moment she stepped in the room. This wasn’t because she was the only patient, although that helped, but because half the crew were gathered around her bed murmuring words and chit-chatting. Emma cleared her sore throat. “Alright everyone, back to your stations. I’d like a word alone with Belle, if you please.”

Some nodded assent immediately and left. Others looked more grudging about doing so and there were a few who even shot Emma resentful expressions on their way out. She made note of their faces so she could track them down to talk later and try to justify her actions. Emma didn’t blame their sudden distrustfulness towards her – if she’d been careless with Belle’s life, who’s to say she wouldn’t be so reckless with any other member of her crew?

But eventually, they all left except Bug. Belle levelled soulful eyes at her and Emma fought away the guilt that clutched to her with desperate claws. “You look like hell,” her Navigator said evenly.

“Well the nuns who raised me always said, if you can’t find solace in Christ, find it at the bottom of a bottle,” Emma attempted to joke.

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Did they really?”

“No,” Emma sighed. “That’s just something learnt from personal experience.”

She pulled up a chair to sit beside her Navigator’s bedside. “May I?” Emma asked, pulling down the sheet covering Belle’s injured leg. The tourniquet she had tied was long gone, but there was still bruising all around her thigh from where it had been. There was a neat bandage wrapped around the wound, so Emma couldn’t see it, but it hadn’t bled through at least.

“Can you still feel your leg?” Emma enquired and wouldn’t deny the blissful relief she experienced when Belle nodded once.

“If you’ve come to apologise,” Belle said after a time of sitting there in comfortable silence while Emma tried to work up the courage to say two simple words. “Don’t bother. I knew what I signed up for when I joined a pirate crew. You did what you had to do.”

“I don’t have the right to play _games_ with your mortality,” Emma protested, having found her voice once more.

“We both knew what we were doing,” Belle said reasonably. “You weren’t the one to cut me open, Captain. You were the one to save my life.”

Emma leant forward, resting her head on her hands. “How can you be so okay with this?” She asked, muffled. She had spent every minute since Belle had first fallen unconscious struggling with her decision to keep looking for the dagger… and her Navigator was fine with yesterday’s events?

Belle’s fingertips danced lightly over her hair. “You forget; I love a man who has killed repeatedly and yet feels no remorse. I love a man who is the most wanted for his crimes throughout all lands. How can I resent you for something so simplistic as the ‘ends justify the means’?”

Nodding, even though she still didn’t fully understand the girl’s neutral perspective, the Captain stood up from her bedside and touched a brief finger to her cheek. “If you want…” Emma offered tentatively. “You can go with Hook when he takes the dagger. To persuade him to spare Rumplestiltskin. To say goodbye. Whatever you like.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Belle smiled at her. Emma shook her head at the oddity of forgiveness and left the medical bay.

She only got as far as the stairs before she was forced to stop. Because at the bottom step, a Princess perched. And she looked as pissed off as Royalty could be. “Sweet Jesus,” Emma sighed. She leant on the wall next to the staircase so when Regina gave as good as she got, at least Emma’s back would be covered. “Who set you free?”

“Red,” Regina replied simply. “Right before she went to knock some sense into your aching temples.”

“How do you know…?” Emma questioned, trailing off. The only way Regina could possibly know that she was very hung over was if… “How bad?” She quizzed tentatively, not sure she wanted to know.

“I couldn’t understand much of what you were saying,” Regina admitted. “You asked for forgiveness.”

Emma closed her eyes briefly, ashamed. She took responsibility for her actions and lived with the consequences every day. She had never wanted absolution for her crimes and had never asked for it consciously. “For what?” She asked, faux casually.

“For Belle,” Regina shrugged. “For your son. It was odd,” a little smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. “It helped. To know you feel some element of guilt for the things you do.” Emma didn’t know what to say to that. But then Regina broke the curiously tense atmosphere. “And then you danced around the room as naked as the day you were born, bellowing some pirate ditty.”

“Shit,” Emma said, without meaning to. _Betray no emotion,_ her mind ordered her. _Especially not the shame which is creeping up your face._

“I thought you were going to tear your stitches,” Regina confided in a stage whisper and they both broke out in laughter, the Princess almost doubled over and gasping for breath.

“You mean to say,” Emma choked out through sporadic giggles. “I was there in all my glory – and all you could think about were stitches?”

The resulting laughter went on for another minute at least, until Emma found the tears of laughter that were streaking down her face were sorrowful and the choking in her throat was a sob, not a chuckle. Then suddenly there was a hand in hers.

Emma looked at it, tan, delicate knuckles, tiny calluses decorating soft palms where there should have been none. Her gaze followed long sinewy forearms and muscles until it reached a shoulder, a delicate neck and then a face. Regina’s eyes were still guarded but for the first time her face was open; it was asking – no, _endearing_ Emma to trust her.

This whole business was screwed up. Who was fool enough to get close to a captive, a bounty? It was the mother of bad decisions.

“Can I trust you?” Her voice was disturbingly open and vulnerable. _This was a mistake_. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

Regina paused. Emma could see the indenture of her tongue running along her top teeth. She inhaled and exhaled twice. “Why would you?” She said eventually. “What would you entrust to me?”

Emma chuckled low, without amusement. “It’s too late,” the girl whispered. “You’ve already seen my tears.” She couldn’t say if she trusted the Princess in her care. It was dangerous. And Emma Swan loved danger, but not like this. Not when it was her emotions on the line.

 _You’re in way too deep,_ her sub-conscious was screaming at her. _You’re giving everything away to this girl. If you trust her with your tears, which you haven’t shed for anybody else in two centuries, what else will you find yourself losing to Princess Regina?_

Unthinking, Emma’s hand went to her chest, where she rubbed at the skin there, just above her heart. “If I trust you,” she said to the girl brusquely. “You’ll take advantage. Escape again. I may not even try to stop you this time. And the more I trust in you, the greater opportunity you’ll get.”

She barged past Regina sitting on the step and sprinted up the steps as fast as she could, leaving the girl behind her. She strode purposefully across the deck, making for her father – sweet, simple Charming.

Emma needed simplicity. She needed it like oxygen, like rum and adventure. She lived for herself and by herself. And no smug, spoilt Princess could change that for a second.

“How far?” Emma demanded of him, leaning on the mast behind the wheel. She didn’t look up to where Belle would normally be standing, looking out in the crow’s nest. _Not going there_.

Charming was his usual commanding, serious yet caring self. “We’re less than three hours from the map line surrounding the Sea of Monsters. Hopefully when we clear it we’ll be out of danger and…”

“Hook will be waiting,” Emma nodded. God, she needed him right now. Things on board the _Blade_ right now were unnecessary complex and entangled, her emotions were messy and unstable. Hook was a rock. He was her past, as long and glorious as it was. He was adventure, riches, glory and infamy.

And if she saw a dejected Princess slink below deck to spend time with her son when she took over the wheel, Emma made a good job of pretending not to care in the slightest.


	11. And Others Sail on the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines.   
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“A person's true identity can often be difficult to discern, even to themselves, causing one to question their character, their calling, their very existence.”_ – Joe Fazzio & Ted Sullivan

 

 “Captain?” Came a voice from beside her on the Quarterdeck and Emma took a moment to curse her adventurous nature. Had she been a quiet, virtuous little girl, she would have been ordained in the nunnery when she turned eighteen, dead over two hundred years ago and wouldn’t be dealing with any of _this_ crap.

But she wasn’t dead, she was steering her ship towards the border of the Sea of Monsters and she had to face those consequences. So Emma turned to face whoever had interrupted her quiet time which she used to plan adventures and imagine spearheading great battles. “What’s wrong, Ella?”

“Nothing at all, Captain. Doc just sent me to tell you that everybody who was injured is in the clear,” replied the girl. She held a bundle in her arms and her tone was euphoric. “I was just wondering… would you like to hold my daughter?”

“Oh, Ella,” Emma’s face broke out into a huge smile. Between Belle and the dagger and Regina and _everything_ she had almost forgotten the panic of Ella going into labour and almost giving birth in her dodgy little dinghy. But this reminder, that life begins as well as ends, had come at just the right moment for Emma and she smiled beatifically down at the baby girl. “What’s her name?” Emma asked as she carefully took the bundle in her arms, still clenching the wheel to keep them on course with the other.

“Alexandra,” Ella smiled almost tearily. Emma cooed down at the little bundle in her arms, stroking a tiny cheek with her fingertip.

Then she looked back up at the girl who had joined her crew only a week or so earlier. “Ella,” she paused. “You do realise the decision you’ll have to make soon, don’t you?”

The girl’s smile did not falter for a second as she reached for the bundle and lifted her gently back out of Emma’s arms and into her own. “I know,” Ella nodded. “And while you’ve been very welcoming, Captain, the whole crew too… I just feel like I want to raise my daughter myself, somewhere safe, quiet… peaceful.”

Emma nodded. She wanted to say that she understood, that she knew what Ella was going through, but she didn’t. When faced with the choice herself, Emma had given away her babe to its father without a second thought. She wanted to have _adventures_ and _be free_ and none of those fantasies had ever featured a child.

They still didn’t.

 “Well,” Emma smiled, trying not to give away her inner thought process and clapping Ella on the back. “You’re stuck with us for another forty or so days before we arrive back at Tortuga. Or if an island of bad boys isn’t to your taste we’ll be docking at Port Wordsworth in a couple of months. That Port is very…” Emma searched for a word pretty enough to describe the city which practically burst with colour and eventually settled on… “Flowery.”

“Sounds like a good place to raise a child,” Ella commented, a blissful smile settling on her lips.

Emma gestured awkwardly at the baby. “You’re not going to need any help to bring her up?”

“Why would I?” Ella asked simply. “She’s my daughter.”

The new mother left Emma to stew over that remark all alone. Deep down she had always feared that she wouldn’t have been a fit role model for her son, working in a brothel, getting pregnant at nineteen and hopping on the first pirate ship she saw. Baelfire, she had managed to convince herself over the years, would have been a much better father than she ever would have been a mother.

But then she saw the easiness with the way Ella handled and cared for Alexandra and the way Regina put herself forward to protect her son, Henry, time and time again. Henry wasn’t even Regina’s son by blood, just some ten-year-old she’d likely found wandering around. And still, the mother-son bond between them was strong as a diamond and just as unbreakable.

Emma thought of her own son. She imagined a little blonde five-year-old. Bae had never told her what had made him give up his son to the Lost Boys, and subsequently she had never known her son’s appearance, personality or even what Bae and Rumple had named him. She had also never known what he had done in Neverland after that for the next century, until he had come back begging for Hook to let him sail with him again and let bygones be bygones.

Of course, the reason she didn’t know all of this was because even though Bae had been reinstated as Hook’s Quartermaster, Emma still refused to speak to him. For two hundred years. Hell, she still wouldn’t let anyone on board say his name.

She knew it was overly harsh. But part of her was hugely ashamed of what she’d done that day on which Milah had died and Emma had given away her son for a titbit of knowledge and a favour. And Bae was partially responsible for that and every time she saw him or heard his name, what she had done, what she had sold came rushing back like a rush of blood to the head.

“SHIP AHOY!” Charming yelled, from the lookout post Emma had been keeping him in the last few hours. Despite knowing Bae was close now, she knew Hook was too and he was almost enough to balance things out. She withdrew her telescope from her belt and extended it, pressing her eye to the glass.

“It’s the _Roger!_ ” She shouted back to Charming across the deck, as her eye lingered on the yellow paint job and the smart black printed letters.

 

As they drew ever closer to _The Jolly Roger_ and thus the barrier line between the Sea of Monsters and normal land, Emma swore she could see the shimmering wall with her naked eye. She knew that it was transparent, but it filtered through the sunshine, which caused the very slight shimmering.

When the _Blade_ began to pass through it, Emma winced as each wooden inch made it through perfectly safe. Then she passed through it and perhaps she was imagining it, but it felt strangely like she had just stepped through a very light sheet of water. The light was brighter on the other side – how had she not realised how dark it was in the Sea of Monsters? – and the _Jolly Roger’s_ sails were fluttering gloriously in the wind.

Emma steered the _Blade_ parallel to Hook’s ship and began to call orders to haltand throw down the anchor. The gangplank was fished out of the hold and laid down to create an easy walkway between ships.

As always during social visits, a very pregnant Princess Aurora of Summerlands and Autumnlands was the first to be escorted over, by a very scarlet Bashful. Her entire crew bowed and Emma got down on one knee to kiss her hand. “Your Highness. May I present –“

But she was cut off by the Princess on board her own vessel rushing forward to give Aurora a fierce hug. “Aurora! How are you _here_? Are you _pregnant_? Where in God’s name have you been?”

It was Regina, clinging fiercely. She gave the girl one last squeeze then stepped back, grinning wildly at her. Aurora, to Emma’s eyes at least, looked pleased to see her but the crews of both ships knew the Princess’s whereabouts were supposed to be a grave secret. Emma cursed herself. Why had she not thought to hide Regina below deck? Being the same age, the Princesses were bound to have known each other in their youth.

“I think the real question is how are you here?” Aurora deflected, leaning back into Mulan who had come up behind her.

“Captain Swan,” Regina’s tone was sardonic. “Abducted me from my hiding place in Port Lost and is oh-so-graciously returning me to my fiancé.”

Aurora smiled in a way that showed everyone how she had enchanted both the Prince of the Autumnlands and his personal bodyguard into loving her unconditionally. “Emma is very gracious.”

Appreciating the compliment, even if it was said in jest, Emma tipped her hat to the Princess. But then her attention was taken by somebody else boarding her ship, encased in form-fitting leather and wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Emma, milove!” He called out. “You have the dagger?”

Smiling tantalisingly at him, Emma slowly removed the blade from her belt and held it up in the sunlight, where it glinted and caught the light. Hook’s eyes were fixated on its long jagged length as he walked over, studying every obsidian inch. Slowly, slowly, he plucked it from her grasp, ran his eyes along the edge and then finally sheathed it on his own person.

“You did it!” He roared quite suddenly, making everyone start. He wrapped his muscled arms around Emma’s waist and spun her round twice in pure jubilation.

“That’s right,” she agreed in amusement as he set her down and engulfed her in a fierce hug. “And after all these years…”

“Milah,” Hook agreed, face shining with triumph. “You’ve played your part in avenging her now, Swan. It’s up to me to do the rest. SMEE!” On his command, an unusually short pirate with a bright red hat scurried up. Emma rolled her eyes in exasperation. She had hated that rat ever since Hook had plucked him off the streets a century ago.

“Yes Captain?” He breathily enquired, as eager as ever to serve.

“As many bottles of the expensive rum from the cellar as you can carry, if you please Mr Smee, and I suppose we should have a bottle of Summerlands wine for the Princesses,” he swept a hand at Aurora and Regina.

“Aye, Captain!” Smee saluted and went scurrying back over the gangplank and onto the deck of the _Jolly Roger_.

“Where are the rest of your crew?” Emma asked inquisitively. His Boatswain and Navigator, Mulan and Aurora, were present as well as a few old familiar faces, but this wasn’t even half of Hook’s pirates.

Hook grimaced. “I told them to cook up a feast worthy of your victory in finding the dagger and put Baelfire in charge. They’ll be bringing it over later but you won’t have to see him until then.”

“Thank you,” Emma whispered to him, just as Smee reappeared, brandishing several bottles of assorted booze. She swiped a full tankard of rum from his arms and waved it tantalisingly at Hook, who grinned back at her, raising a salacious eyebrow.

“Drink as much as you want!” Emma yelled to her crew. “It’s all on my dear Captain, here! We’ll be below…” she searched for a reasonable alternative explanation as to what they were going to be doing. “Negotiating our reward for finding his dagger!”

This announcement was greeted with a roar of enthusiasm from her pirates and she couldn’t fight the wide grin that spread across her face. She grabbed Hook’s good hand and towed him along with her to her Quarters, popping the cork on the rum with her teeth as she went.

Victory, rum and the anticipation of some really great sex. Emma Swan was a happy pirate.

 

Princess Regina of Springlands was an unhappy captive.

She supposed that came with the territory really, after all, who was truly happy in captivity? For a while, she’d thought just maybe she could be for the two months sail she had left. Henry was on board with her, and she’d get to give him a proper farewell. She was having adventures, thrilling, life-threatening adventures like the ones in the books which Daddy had secretly given her when she was a teenager.

And then there was Captain Emma Swan.

Regina couldn’t quite pin down how she felt about the infuriating woman. Although she acted in such a manly fashion, the Princess wasn’t even sure she deserved to be described as such. It was a pity her body had been wasted on such a masculine personality. Regina could still recall in perfect detail the well-developed back muscles twitching as the Captain had drawn her linen shirt over her head and then when she’d pulled her breeches down past well-sculpted buttocks and long, toned legs... Well, Regina had felt that warm heat in her groin that she hadn’t felt since… Daniel. Not love, no… that was the fluttering of her heart and the twisting of her stomach. No, this was lust.

God, she _wanted_ Swan and shame burned in her gut for admitting it even to herself.

But she could have dealt with it. _Would_ have dealt with it.

If it wasn’t for Belle.

Not that Belle had said anything in particular to her, nor had she even done anything which had directly resulted in a change in Regina’s feelings toward Emma. But she had been injured, badly so and the Captain had endangered her life trying to find this mysterious dagger.

It had been only last night that things had changed. Regina had crept down the stairs to the Captain’s Quarters, determined to confront Emma about her part in almost killing Belle. Some part of her desperately needed to know if the Captain felt anything at all. She had shown no qualms in separating her from her son. She had shown only a little compassion after Regina had re-lived that horrific experience of her past – her breathing sped up and she blinked rapidly trying _desperately_ not to think about that night… nor his name. She would not think it. _Leopold._ Regina winced.

She rejected memories of stubby fingers and warm breath and tried to recapture her thought process. Yes – Emma and her feelings. Did the Captain have any? That was what Regina had been in quest of yesterday as she crept down the stairs to where Emma was… alone. Was she callously kicking back and relaxing while Bug fought to keep Belle’s leg attached to her body? Was she crying alone out of pride? Had she simply fallen asleep, too tired by the day’s events to feel overly guilty?

What Regina had found was not even close to what she had been expecting.

Emma had launched herself at her from the second she had crept around the door and Regina had jumped, thinking she was being subtle and knowing she had failed at that particular skill. Then she demanded Emma get off her, before she caught the incredibly strong alcohol on her breath. Regina could feel the onset of a flashback but fought against it as she realised Emma posed no threat to her at all. Too drunk to stand, almost, Emma clutched an empty bottle in her hand.

“Forgive…” Emma trailed off, frustrated at her own inability to form proper sentences. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” Regina asked inquisitively. There were a hundred and one things she’d like an apology off Emma for – and a hundred and one apologies she knew that she would never hear.

“Forgive me for –“ Emma toppled over backwards, hitting the bed hard and bouncing off onto the floor, where the bottle flew out of her hand and smashed. “For leaving ‘im.”

“Henry?” Regina asked, recalling her brief time in the brig below deck. She had thought that Henry was still in Port Lost, waiting for her to come home and pining. She should have known better. He was an extremely resourceful ten-year-old, and she was unsurprised that he had found her. Did Emma want forgiveness for that particular sin? “I forgive you for that,” she granted.

“No, no…” Emma mumbled and Regina felt slightly offended. “ _My_ son. I don’t… even… _know_ his _name,_ Princess.”

Regina openly gaped. Emma didn’t know the name of her own son? Of all the things she knew that woman to have done (she _shuddered_ to think of the amount of blood the other woman had on her hands) that, to the Princess, was the most deplorable.

“And!” Emma announced, evidently unfinished. “And Belle! I… she…. Could have died!” The Captain grimaced and turned around. Regina thought it was shame – shame for the pain, both physical and mental, she had caused herself and others. But then Emma began to vomit.

She backed away slowly. Her question had been answered. Captain Swan did feel, felt very strongly in fact, but hid it a long way down.

Regina needed time to think, to process what she had learned. Could she have _feelings_ (she shuddered internally) for a human being with so little morality? So she had left Emma, retching up her guts on the floor.

Then when she had confronted Emma about her actions this morning, the Captain had opened up to her for the first time ever. Regina had begun to hope that maybe, just maybe this… whatever _this_ was, could actually go somewhere.

But before she knew it, Emma had closed herself off again. And now she had rushed downstairs with that hunk of meat in the shape of a man. Regina could grudgingly admit he was handsome enough and certainly familiar with Emma… but did he _care_ for her at all? Did Emma even mind if he was just using her for her body?

Regina cursed, mentally poking herself for jumping to conclusions. Emma and… was _Hook_ his name? It was appropriate certainly… the two of them could just be talking, catching up, drinking.

Suddenly there was a warmth at her side in the form of a ten-year-old boy. Regina slid an arm around his shoulders as she watched the little man in the red hat distribute alcohol. Aurora gestured for Regina to come and join her and she walked over to her and the menacing-looking warrior woman that stood behind her. Henry followed her, looking a little lost and out of his depth amongst all these people.

“Is this your son?” Aurora asked, reaching out her hand. Regina nudged him forward and Henry caught on, bending to kiss the Princess’s hand. “What’s your name?”

“Henry,” her son told her old friend, smiling at her. His shyness was very uncharacteristic, but Regina put it down to being awed by real royalty. Of course, Regina still counted herself as a Princess but knew to Henry she didn’t count. She was just _mother_.

Aurora raised an eyebrow at Regina. She knew what she was thinking. Henry was clearly around ten or eleven years old in appearance, whereas Regina was just as obviously still in her early twenties. “He’s not biologically mine,” Regina told her fellow Princess. “I adopted him.”

“Ah,” the Princess sighed in realisation just as the woman behind her cleared her throat. “Oh, yes. I forgot you haven’t yet met Mulan. Sweetheart, this is an old friend of mine, Princess Regina of Springlands. Regina, this is my wife Mulan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Regina tries in vain to conceal her surprise as she shakes Mulan’s hand. “The last I heard, you were married to Prince Philip of Autumnlands. I knew there was a civil war but…”

“You’ve been very out of touch,” Aurora nodded. “It’s understandable. Had my father, King Midas, tried to marry me to such an obnoxious, foul ruler as Leopold, I would have run away myself. Well…” she looked appealingly up at Mulan. “My wife tells the tale in a much more concise manner than I.”

Looking like she understood her wife’s silent plea, Mulan nodded. “Philip’s step mother, Maleficent, was very ambitious. When old King Walden, may he rest in peace, died, she was determined to take over the Autumnlands at any cost. As the eldest, Philip was set to inherit. So despite my best efforts to protect him, she killed him slowly and torturously. However, it gave me enough time to hide the younger son, Thomas, and Aurora.”

Regina swallowed, her grief swelling up in her gullet. She hadn’t known Philip very well, but she knew what it was like to lose a true love. “Aurora…” Regina reached out a hand to her shoulder. “My friend, I am so sorry.”

Aurora shook her head, smiling. “Don’t be. Philip left me something to remember him by.” She indicated her swollen belly with a wave of her hand. Then her face noticeably perked up as she spotted something over Regina and Henry’s shoulders. “It’s the boys!” She exclaimed. “And they really have cooked up a storm! Sweetheart, why don’t you go and help Bae with that platter? He looks like he’s about to topple.”

“Bae?” Henry asked, in his preteen unbroken voice as he wheeled around, trying to find the pirate to which Aurora had been referring. “Short for Baelfire?”

“Henry –“ Regina started, feeling a premonition in her belly that this would not bode well for anyone.

“Father!” Henry exclaimed, catching Baelfire’s attention as he looked over towards them. Then his eyes alighted on her son and lit up and Regina knew that her old fears were coming to pass – Henry had found a true, biological parent. Panic swept through her. Did adoption mean anything to this man? Would her son still love her if he had a true father? Would he want to say goodbye to Regina now and leave with his father rather than wait two months before she had to get married?

The platter Baelfire had been holding slipped from his hands and splattered food all over his clothing. But the man hardly noticed, striding over to Henry to wrap him in a fierce hug. “Cas!” He murmured, running a hand through Henry’s overgrown locks of hair. He pulled back roughly, grabbing the boy’s shoulders. “What are you doing here? This is the last thing your mother and I wanted for you! Does Emma know who you are?”

Regina felt over faced by new information. Emma? What did she have to do with this? And who was ‘Cas’? “What did you just call my son?” She asked firmly, trying to re-establish her own position as Henry’s current mother and protector.

“Caspian – that’s his name,” Bae told her, confused. “Who are you?”

“Father,” Henry said smiling, trying to wiggle out from the grip Bae had on his shoulders. “This is my mother. And my name is Henry, now.”

“Henry?” Bae questioned, looking like the sound of the name did not sit well on his tongue. “And she’s not your mother, Cas. Sorry… Henry. Remember, I told you… your mother’s name was Emma.”

Panic was infiltrating Regina’s veins and burrowing into her skin. Her breathing accelerated as she voiced a very sudden, very unexpected terror. “You don’t mean… Emma Swan? The boy she gave up centuries ago… that’s not…” Regina shook her head in denial. “That can’t be… my son?”

Bae stood up and pulled Henry into his middle, running a hand through his hair. “I assume you know how she _abandoned_ him for no good reason then!”

Henry pulled back suddenly. “What? I thought you said she loved me too much to raise me on a pirate ship and so she begged you to raise me… to give me my best shot?”

“Why don’t you get something to eat… Henry?” Bae suggested. “Then we’ll see if we can find your real mother. She’ll be very surprised to meet you, I’m sure.”

“Captain Swan?” Henry asked quietly. “I never thought… even though her name’s Emma…”

“Get some food from over there, Henry,” Regina nudged him in the back. She and Bae were going to have words, right now. He regarded them both suspiciously, but did what they asked, joining Aurora on the other side of the deck who was piling a mountain onto her plate.

“Now you listen to me,” Regina hissed. “I know _all_ about the son Emma Swan gave up. I know she feels some measure of remorse for that. I also know that she gave him to _you_ ten minutes after his birth and you were supposed to raise him properly!” She spat.

Bae looked affronted. “I did –“

“Then please _do_ explain to me why I found him on the streets of Port Lost, dossing for money and sleeping in the basement of an abandoned church!” Regina yelled, no longer caring about the volume of her tirade. Most of the crew on board the deck turned to look at them but despite her polite, well-adjusted upbringing Regina found that she simply _did not care_.

“I did the best I could for Caspian!” Bae yelled back at her.

“His name is Henry!” Regina shouted, correcting him.

“Fine!” Bae roared. “I gave him to the Lost Boys, so they could look after him!”

“A _five-year-old!_ ” Regina shrieked. “What possible reason could you have for leaving a _five-year-old_ with the Lost Boys! They’re a bunch of pre-teen and adolescent trouble-makers with no conscience and certainly no child-raising ability! You doomed him to a life of being permanently five-years-old and did you even _care?_ ”

Henry’s biological father opened his mouth and Regina felt sure he would soon involve fists in this fight – but she was saved by the door to the Captain’s Quarters crashing open and a very irate-looking Emma Swan stomping up the stairs towards where she and Bae were having their screaming match.

If Emma had been clad in anything more than her translucent linen shirt, which barely dusted the tops of her thighs, the effect would have been a lot more intimidating. Nevertheless, it showed off the ugly wound on her calf, which was well on its way to healing over but still red and raw. Behind her, Hook was making his way up the stairs and on deck, buckling his belt while he went. It was immediately obvious to anyone looking what _reward_ Emma had received for finding Hook’s precious dagger.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” Emma demanded, drawing the attention of everybody on board away from her minimal attire and back to the fact that she was the Captain of the vessel and capable of making them walk the plank with their hands and feet chained together if she wanted to.

“The man you procreated with is an unfit parent!” Regina burst out, still reeling from the knowledge that Emma was Henry’s biological mother.

“Emma – this woman had been taking all sorts of liberties with _our_ son! He has a new name, a new life –“ Bae began, but was interrupted again by a yelling Regina.

“ _I’m_ taking liberties!” She exploded. “You took liberties with his life when you just oh-so-casually gave him away to the Lost Boys! And _you_ ,” she rounded on Emma. “Did you condone this?”

Bae laughed derisively. “Hook told her what I had done with our precious son when I re-joined his crew. She couldn’t give less of a fuck.” The profanity was harsh on his tongue and Regina winced at the sheer venom of it.

“Henry…” Emma trailed off. Then Regina realised what the Captain was trying to come to terms with.

She put it very simply for her. “Henry, although Baelfire here seems to think his name is Caspian, is your son. And you both abandoned him, so neither of you gets to decide what’s best for him.” She pointed her finger at her chest. “ _I_ do!”

Bae looked over at Emma. Regina knew what he was expecting, what they were both expecting. A traditional Swan outburst, a declaration of ownership, of maternal love and right. Instead, the Captain just nodded. “Alright.”

“Ems,” Bae gaped, shocked. “You’re just going to let a _stranger_ decide for _our_ son?”

Emma nodded quietly and made an attempt at explanation. “I know Regina. I’ve seen her fight for him, love him, do anything to be a good mother for him. She loves him like neither of us were capable of doing… Neal.”

She called him by a foreign name but Regina understood why. Snow, Charming, Red… they weren’t real names, just pseudonyms to protect the pirates. Neal must have been Bae’s real name – his birth name. Absently, Regina wondered what Emma’s was.

Bae shook his head and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said. But it wasn’t derisive, it was defeated. “So he’s on you now, Regina. How do you propose to deal with the biological parents of your son?”

Regina finally let her features soften in relief. Sure, Bae was still testing her, but he wasn’t trying to win Henry now. He was trying to make sure that she was a good mother and she respected that. “Why don’t you come meet Henry, properly.” She looked around to the buffet food table, but Henry was nowhere to be seen.

“The lad ran off when the yelling started,” a bare-chested Hook informed them as he tucked into a chicken leg, sitting on the stairs to the Quarterdeck. His gaze was lecherous and Regina followed his line of vision to arrive at Emma’s exposed thighs. She rolled her eyes in disgust at his shamelessness.

“Where?” Regina asked, desperately.

“Aurora waddled off after him,” Hook waved his drumstick, finally meeting Regina’s eyes. “She said she’d bring him back up on deck when the screaming stopped.”

Emma chuckled. “She’ll make a great mother. Now excuse me while I go and find some pants before I meet my son.”

Regina watched her go, happy that even though Emma wasn’t the greatest role model in the world, she was finally getting a chance to make up for one of her greatest sins.

 

Emma pulled on her breeches over cold legs and rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, trying to warm them up. That had been one of the biggest bombshells she had experienced in years. _Henry_ , Regina’s little boy, who she would _kill_ for… that Henry was Emma’s real son. The Captain thought back to that night when Regina and Henry had first tried to make a getaway in a dinghy and she and Red had swum after them. As soon as Emma had clambered on board, Henry had been bashing her on the head with an oar. _Those were Swan genes_ , Emma thought proudly.

She slipped on a pair of shoes and jogged back up on deck. The first thing she spotted was Regina, her arm around Henry who looked a little shell-shocked. Emma couldn’t blame him – for 250 years he’d been alone without parents, then within the last five years he’d gained three.

She straightened her shirt, momentarily clasped her sword hilt like she was going into battle, then went to meet her son for the second time.


	12. With the Keys to the Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“If she loved him the way she said she did, she wanted him whole. Maybe this was what love meant after all: sacrifice and selflessness. It did not mean hearts and flowers and a happy ending, but the knowledge that another's well-being is more important than one's own.”_ – Melissa de la Cruz

 

“So,” Henry said, his face stained heavily with tear tracks. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

It was clear to everyone who his question was directed at. Emma smiled at her son and bestowed a quick hug on him. “Yeah, kid. You will.” She stepped back, away from the edge where Henry was standing on the gangplank.

 _The Jolly Roger_ was ready to set sail towards Tortuga again. Hook had traded some lucrative merchandise for a new purse of beans, which was how he’d arrived at the Sea of Monsters so quickly. Emma felt a little used – after all she’d risked her own life as well as that of her ship and crew to trade for one bean – but stayed quiet. Besides, she had no idea what he’d traded for this new purse and Hook would not tell her.

Nevertheless, his ship was ready to sail through a portal and arrive back in Tortuga. Hook had invited her to use the portal too, to arrive back in Tortuga two months ahead of schedule. She had shaken her head and declined. Truthfully, she wanted this whole business over and done with. But there was the tiny humane part of her soul that told her that the kind of abuse, the unpreventable kind **,** that Regina would soon be facing should be put off as long as possible.

“Why are you turning free transportation down, lass?” Hook frowned perplexedly. “You might get a pay rise for early delivery of that pretty Princess!”

“I need you to take Henry with you,” Emma said, diverting the conversation in a tone that implied it was not up for discussion. “I know Bae’s not father material now, so when this is over I’ll come back for him. Oh, and when you go and see Rumplestiltskin…”

“I’ll give him your regards before I kill him,” Hook tipped his pirate hat to her.

Emma interrupted him. “I want you to take Belle with you.”

Hook’s nose crinkled in confusion as he tried to place the name to the face. “Your Navigator? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“She’s his lover,” Emma told him, then held up a hand to stop the inevitable tirade. “I know – it’s disgusting, deplorable… she’s insane. She also loves him and _still_ helped me to find the dagger once I explained why I needed it.”

“So you think she deserves to see him die?” Hook asked her dryly, pulling on his boat as he sat on her bedspread.

“I told her she could... if she wanted to,” Emma conceded. “She does. I don’t think it’s wise – but if that’s what she wants, then that’s what she will have.”

Hook rolled his eyes as he pulled on his other boot. “Letting this Belle say goodbye to her lover. Hanging on to your little Princess for whatever reason. Oh dear, Swan, I do believe you’re going soft.”

“Say that again and I’ll show you _exactly_ how soft I am,” Emma growled at him, drawing her boot knife – her belt still across the room where it had been thrown in the heat of the moment.

Then conversation had descended back into casual insults, flirting and a second round. Now Belle stood, her own maps rolled up and bundled into a container that she wore over her back, ready to leave on _The Jolly Roger…_ with Henry.

It had taken a lot of coercion on Emma’s part to make sure that he would leave with Hook and Bae. Only the other Captain had understood that Henry was a distraction – because only he understood the need to face fate head on. No, both Henry and Regina would be better off if she knew he was safe and sound-ish on Tortuga with his father and Hook, only the latter of which Emma actually trusted.

Regina couldn’t understand why Henry had to go with Bae – and that was where Emma was having problems. Because normal Regina was tricky enough to deal with – a Regina driven mad by misery and nervous anticipation of her wedding was going to be cataclysmic.

“Mother,” Henry turned to face the Princess and she didn’t spare his feelings, sobbing as she crushed him in a fierce hug. If the kid didn’t know this might be the final goodbye before, he would certainly know it now. “Mother, you’re squeezing me to death,” the kid tried to joke, mostly serious.

“Sorry, Henry…” She released him and leant down to his level, combing stray windswept hairs behind his ear. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too, mother!” Henry exclaimed, jumping forward to squeeze her middle this time. If she didn’t know that Regina would likely never see her son again, Emma might have even been jealous of the unconditional love the pair obviously shared.

Hook appeared at the other end of the gangplank and extended his hooked hand for Henry to grab. “Come aboard then, lad. Dearest Aurora has agreed to show you the ropes.” The pregnant Princess on the deck of the other ship smiled as Belle ushered Henry up the gangplank.

Smee lifted the plank that connected the two ships and Regina made a sudden start towards _The Jolly Roger_ , as if she had convinced herself that there would be no consequences to sequestering herself away on Tortuga with her son. Emma, who had been expecting something of the sort, grabbed her around the middle with both arms and held her tightly to her torso.

“You bitch!” Regina yelled loudly as the crowd on deck began to dissipate. “Let me go! Emma – let me… let me…” then the sound of her voice was absorbed into her sobs as she turned around and buried her face into Emma’s neck.

The other ship pulled away and sailed with gaining speed towards the portal that had just opened fifty feet away. Henry, standing on the Quarterdeck waved forlornly at her. Then the ship went over the brink and was sucked into the green-tinted portal.

Regina continued to shudder in Emma’s arms and made no complaint when the Captain scooped her up and carried her below deck into her Quarters. There, she laid the Princess on the bed and watched over her from her chair until the other girl fell into fitful, morose sleep.

As Regina slept, Emma watched the slight curve of the small of her back, the rise and fall of her chest and the way linen draped over it. She observed the slight lip scar she’d never noticed before, the roundness of her unbound left breast and the concave dip of her belly.

The whole night, sleep danced around Emma, in and out of her skin and tantalisingly dusting her eyelids. But she did not once drift off and when Regina came to consciousness in the morning, Emma took in her slight stretch and yawn.

As the Princess rolled over, probably looking for her, Emma closed her eyes on reflex and pretended to be asleep. Would Regina close her eyes and go back to sleep, having forgiven Emma for sending her son away? Or would she creep out of the door and make her escape?

Emma got her answer when the bed creaked quietly, the woman on top having slid her legs off the mattress and into her leather boots. The floorboards whined their usual complaints as Regina tiptoed over them towards her door.

“You know, I’m usually the one who sneaks out at dawn,” Emma commented, her voice hoarse and her eyes still closed. But it had stopped Regina in her tracks.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Regina replied evenly, in a way that concerned the Captain much more than it would’ve if the Princess had lashed out. Emma opened her eyes and found her captive unlacing the pearls that she had given her after her nightmare about Leopold. Regina threw them down on the bed. “After all, you’re only a treacherous pirate.”

And with that unforgiving pronouncement, she took the stairs at a jog and finally disappeared from Emma’s line of vision.

 

For the first time since Emma had docked in Tortuga a week ago (a week as long as a lifetime), she was able to swim that morning. Though it usually calmed her down, long, even strokes propelling her through the lukewarm salt water, today was different. Every stroke seemed to rile her delicate sensibilities, bring back another fragment of Regina’s words.

Emma knew that she had made the right choice by sending Henry to Tortuga. Every day that he had been here, it had been prolonging the agony that would be their eventual goodbye. And now that she knew Henry was her own son, Emma did want to spend time with him and get to know the boy a little. There had been clear visions in her head of what would’ve happened had she allowed Henry to stay on board. Regina might’ve tried to teach them both how to read. Emma might have playfully sparred with Henry while Regina took notes on her techniques. And after Henry had been put to sleep, Emma and Regina could’ve even deluded themselves into playing happy families in her bed, too.

And with every vision of how things could’ve been, Emma found her longing grow stronger. She wanted all of that, she _did_. After over 250 years of solitude, the Captain had to come to terms with her own need for love and family.

But then that was the masochistic part of her nature. Because when Emma had finally chosen people she wanted to love forever, she had chosen a women who, in two months, would be locked and bolted inside the most gilded cage imaginable. And nobody, neither Emma nor Henry, could follow her in there.

So what she had done, Emma reasoned with herself as she swam slowly around the ship, was the best thing for everyone. Henry wouldn’t have unreasonable expectations of a happy family unit. Regina’s cage might be a little less insufferable, if she didn’t know how green the grass was on the other side. Emma could continue to deny to herself that she needed anybody.

The dripping wet frame of the Captain hoisted itself out of the water and on to the ladder ascending the side of the ship. As she climbed, Emma tried to focus on nothing but the rope burn on her fingers and the sodden clinging of her clothes to her body. The weather was still warm, thank God, as it was always heated in Neverland and the Sea of Monsters. But once they sailed past Autumnlands it would get much colder and these swims would be cut shorter and be more painful.

On deck, Emma removed her boots and trudged down the stairs below deck to the galley, following mostly her nose. After a week, the fresh meat would still be good, although the bread and fruit were all gone. Emma rounded the corner and found a good quarter of her crew imitating lap dogs; they were holding bowls and panting. She could understand why – the scent of bacon wafting from Granny’s stove was blissful.

“Right, you mangy lot!” Granny yelled orders like an army drill sergeant. “Get in line!”

Emma grabbed a plate and lined up behind the rest. Sometimes being Captain gave you special privileges – like the privilege to order anyone around. But Emma tried to never forget (despite her two century reign over the ship) that the position was elected, and so if she wanted to stay at the top then she’d be best not doing things like cutting ahead in the bacon line. That was just asking for mutiny.

Moving up in the line, Emma scanned the room for any trace of her runaway captive. Logically, she knew she should be more worried that she had managed to lose her but Emma knew it was her own fault. She had fucked up and badly so – she could forgive Regina for running away from her as long as she hadn’t run away from the whole ship.

And Regina hadn’t. She was sitting in one of the galley’s tiny chairs munching on bacon and talking to _Snow_ , of all people. Emma hadn’t exactly kept close tabs on who Regina was friendly with – but she was fairly certain Snow wasn’t one of them. Even in spite of the fact that the Princess was going to marry her elderly father, Snow just didn’t seem to have taken to Regina at all.

But there they were, chatting away.

Emma thanked Granny absently for the slices of bacon that were slid on to her plate and scooted in next to her runaway Princess. “What are you two talking so intently about?” She quizzed the pair of them, munching on her meat.

“Thanks for all your help, Snow,” Regina smiled at Emma’s step-mother, glared at her and went off to join Ella and Red, who were cooing over baby Alexandra.

Emma bit down on the bacon rind. “What the hell was that about?” She asked, her voice muffled by all the food she had crammed in her mouth.

Snow sighed, tapping her five fingers in a quiet rhythm. Then she rose from the table to leave her step-daughter behind. “Why don’t you ask her yourself, Emma?” The Quartermaster enquired as she left the now very puzzled Captain to it. Why did it seem like the whole crew was pissed off with her?

“Because they are,” Charming told her, not bothering to sugar-coat it as Emma took over the wheel from him. “Regina’s a sweet girl, more or less the mother of your child. And we all get why you have to send her back, Emma, but most of us are wondering if you have to be so cruel in doing so.”

“I’m not _trying_ to be cruel,” Emma argued back. “I’m trying to help her out. If she’s jubilantly happy now, then her marriage is going to look like hell in comparison. If I make her life miserable these next two months, then maybe the next _twenty years_ won’t be so bad!”

“And what if we get attacked tomorrow and she dies?” Charming demanded. “Life isn’t permanent for her, like it is for us! We make long-term plans because we have the luxury of doing so. But when Leopold dies, she won’t be young anymore. She won’t have lived for forty whole years of her life. And she’ll be too old for adventures and new love by then.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “Emma, you and I, we’re looking at an eternity of adventurous youth. She’s looking at two months. Can you give her that much?”

Taken off guard by his reasoned argument, Emma merely nodded silently. She’d had her reason and logic handed to her on a plate by her own father. And he was right. Emma would never stop having adventures. Regina would be dead in sixty years, while Emma would be celebrating her 335th birthday and not looking a day older. Surely if she had the ability to make Regina’s brief life happy for only a couple of short months, Emma was bound to do so?

“Actually Charming,” Emma began, her mind made up. “Would you swap steering shifts with me? There’s something I need to do.”

 He grinned and clapped her on the shoulder, taking back the wheel from her. “Time was, you never would have listened to my advice.”

“Shut up!” She yelled over her shoulder, making her way below deck to the barracks of her crew. The _Blade_ was big and mighty, in Emma’s not-at-all biased opinion, and boasted two cabins other than her own, both of which were found on the same floor as the crew barracks. One was always kept empty in case of important visitors and the other was assigned to Snow and Charming. Emma entered the latter in search of her step-mother and found her reclining on her bedspread, going over log books from the previous month.

“All in order?” Emma asked, announcing her presence.

Snow shook her head. “We didn’t accommodate for Nova, Ella or Regina when we decided on supplies.” She tapped her feather quill against her lip. “We’ll have to ration more carefully. Anyhow,” she sat up, papers discarded. “I assume you’re looking for Regina?”

“How –“ Emma started.

“You’re the most pig-headed person I know,” Snow told her bluntly, ignoring Emma’s warning glare. “But you’re not stupid. Are you going to apologise or are you hoping you won’t have to?”

“The latter,” Emma admitted to her step-mother. “I stand by what I did.”

Snow rolled her eyes. “I assigned her a hammock. Second row down, furthest to the right.” Emma left her cabin. “Pig-headed,” came a whisper from behind her.

“I heard that!” Emma yelled back, striding up the rows of hammocks until she reached the second row down. Then she began to edge her way along, past snoozing crew and piled goods until she reached the furthest to the right. Regina lay there, immersed in a book that Emma recognised from Belle’s shelves. Her old navigator mustn’t have taken all her books when she had left.

“Regina,” Emma said quietly to the girl, garnering her attention. “Come with me.”

“No,” the girl refused, not taking her eyes off the page for a second.

The Captain heaved a sigh; she had hoped that she wouldn’t have to do this, but… “I’m sorry for taking Henry away from you... again.”

Regina’s eyes glanced over at her and a tiny smile crossed her lips. “You’re not. You stand by it… I heard you talking with Snow.” She returned to her book. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m angry with you.”

Emma frowned at her. Using her hands to balance herself, she hoisted herself into the Princess’s hammock so their legs entangled and they sat facing one another. “Why are you angry then?”

The book in Regina’s lap was snapped shut loudly and the girl leaned forward, ire in her eyes. “I am angry, because you asked me to forgive you for giving your son away the first time. And not a day after you found him again… you sent him off with his father… _again_. So do you really feel guilt, Captain? Or are your feelings just some kind of _act_ ,” she spat the last word, cheeks flushing, breathing increasing in rate and pupils dilating.

Emma was captivated.

“I feel,” she whispered, so softly the words were almost inaudible. She slowly reached out her right hand until she could cup Regina’s cheek in her palm. Her skin was warm and soft, although Emma could feel her cheekbones even when just brushing her hand there.

“You don’t –“ Regina started, still breathing heavily. “You can’t – I’m angry at you!”

Emma smiled the smile of one who is rich in the knowledge that they are in the right. “I’ve proven you wrong. Sending Henry away… I did it for you, not for me.” She paused in her caresses of her captive’s cheek, capturing her eyes to make absolutely sure Regina was following. “As soon as you are married, I will be returning to Tortuga to look after him – to be his mother. I thought, if you said goodbye to him now, you’d have more time to prepare yourself for being married to an absolute _bastard_. Whereas if your son was here… I know you’d be worrying about how all of this,” Emma swept her hand around vaguely, indicating them both. “Would affect him.”

She could feel the Princess searching her eyes, perhaps trying to find some trace of bad intent or misdirection. Emma opened herself up and let her look, as uncomfortable as it made her. Charming was right – this relationship, whatever the hell it was, had an expiration date. Which meant they could both enjoy it as much as they wanted without anybody (Emma) fearing the long-term consequences.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Regina asked her, softly. The Captain thought that she caught the underlying question… _do you trust me now_?

Instead, Emma gave the only answer she could and leaned into the Princess, pressing their lips together in the chastest of kisses. To Regina, it would seem like some declaration of emotion; affection, maybe love if the Princess was feeling optimistic. To Emma, it was a declaration of intent.

“If you let me,” Emma said carefully, making sure her words wouldn’t be misconstrued. “I’ll make these last two months the best months of your life before you’re locked in that gilded cage you’re so afraid of.” Her hand trailed away from Regina’s face and down the side of her throat, to where her collar bone stood out sharply against tan skin.

Regina let her eyelids flutter close in response to Emma’s touch. Silently, she nodded affirmative. “I’ll let you.”

Emma dragged her knuckles back up her neck and brushed the pad of her thumb over the scar on Regina’s lip that she had noticed the night before. “Not here,” she murmured. “Will you come with me now?” She swung her legs off the hammock and dismounted with grace.

Regina hesitated, swallowing. Emma had to remind herself – this was only the Princess’s second such experience with these matters and the first had been… well, far from pleasant. Hesitantly, and nearly as uncertain as Regina, she brought the girl’s hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay,” Regina agreed, quietly, placing her other hand in Emma’s left and let the Captain assist her down from the hammock. The walk from the forecastle where the hammocks were situated to the Captain’s Quarters was relatively brief. Emma walked in front, arousal burning low in her belly as she imagined possible outcomes of this little sordid rendezvous. But she could feel Regina’s hand sliding against hers, the Princess’s palm was a little inelegantly sweaty with nerves but Emma couldn’t mock her for it.

Emma made for her bedspread as she entered her Quarters, instinct taking over, well-practiced as navigating these sorts of liaisons with Hook and occasionally Red. It was only when she glanced behind her that she saw Regina leaning against the doorpost, feigning nonchalance.

Sighing and pushing her hair back off her face, Emma approached her soon-to-be lover and cupped her face, placing a brief kiss on her lips. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted softly.

“Really?” Regina quirked an eyebrow. “Because from the attire you and Captain Hook were wearing yesterday…”

“Not _this_ this,” Emma laughed, breaking the weird tension between them. She flushed a little. “Make love. I haven’t in… a long time. Since Henry was born.”

“Then what do you do with Hook?” Regina asked curiously. It was a legitimate question, Emma knew. Being raised as a Princess, the Heir Apparent to the throne of the Springlands… it didn’t allow exposure to the life which Emma had lead.

“I don’t love Hook,” Emma said, bluntly. “This is going to sound fucked up, but he’s my family. We’ve been together so long now, companions, brothers in arms… it seems strange to me to know somebody unrelated to you so intimately and _not_ sleep with them.” She paused, as if knowing that she was screwing up her pathetic attempt at an explanation. “I _loved_ Henry’s father,” Emma eventually decided on. “What we had was special. We made love to one another and conceived a child. You understand that, right?”

Regina nodded, looking confused. Emma couldn’t blame her – never before had she had to explain the difference between love-making and fucking to somebody whose belief system could really only comprehend the former. And she had the feeling her explanation was severely lacking.

“Hook, Red…whores,” Emma admitted grudgingly. “That’s pleasure... fucking. That’s not love.”

The Princess, who could be counted on to wince at her every profanity, flinched. “And… this. What do you want… from this?”

Emma almost chuckled at how the other girl was unable to bring herself to swear but stopped herself just in time. Feeling that she was being mocked would just worsen her self-esteem. “I don’t love you,” she told her honestly. “But I care about you. I want to make you feel good. It’s the least I owe you, after… everything.”

“You feel like you _owe_ me?” Regina demanded, looking indignant.

 _Shit_ , that had come out wrong. Emma tried to rectify her blunder. “No, Princess – I’m burning for you.” With anybody else but the virginal Regina, she would have brought their hand to her crotch and let them feel the wetness there. But with this girl, she could only brush her tan, slim fingers against her flushed cheek. “Just remember I want this to make you feel _good,_ make you feel _alive._ ” Emma reiterated. “The second you want me to stop, I will… okay?”

Regina nodded hesitantly, and the Captain moved in to kiss her once more. This time she let her lips linger and when the Princess started to sub-consciously push back against her, that was when she flicked her tongue across her lips. Almost unknowingly, Regina’s mouth opened beneath her and Emma began to carefully plunder it, as gentle as she had ever been with a lover. Even in her own innocence, she had never been quite as _pure_ as this.

And knowing that she was as good as Regina’s first stoked the low burn in her belly.

Emma wanted to test the girl’s boundaries, nip a little, introduce her teeth to Regina’s throat as she moved down. But common sense told her that, with the Princess’s past sexual history, that would not be a good idea. Instead, she was softer and gentler than she had ever been before, touching Regina like she might shatter if handled wrongly.

Their kiss broken, Emma began to walk them back towards the bedspread, keeping Regina distracted from their destination by running her hands up and down her back. She sat the girl down with a thump and encouraged her to lay back the best she could without forcing her.

It was so new and difficult to navigate; if she had triggered a flashback in Regina just by lying on top of her with alcohol on her breath… how easy would it be to trigger one during sex? Emma silently promised herself not to penetrate the other girl – terrified that she would force her back to that horrific place in the darkest corner of her mind.

So she faced no other option but to make love to her.

All along Emma had known it would be the only way. Sex came in a thousand different flavours and she was a fan of most; but rape was definitely at one firm end of the spectrum, while love-making was in the most opposite possible corner. To make Regina remember the good experiences rather than the bad, Emma’s only choice was to love her.

It wasn’t such a hardship, she mused as she crawled up next to Regina, who was trying hard to conceal her body’s trembling. “Shh…” Emma whispered. “You know you can trust me.”

Really, she couldn’t. Emma had no idea why Regina had innate faith in her, only that when it came to this, there was no way she could let her down. She mouthed her way softly down Regina’s gullet and sucked ever so gently on her prominent collar bone. Would leaving a mark bring back old memories of bruises? Emma had no way of knowing, and so she was careful to leave Regina as flawless as the way she had found her.

Some things however, could not be avoided, and the principle culprit there was nudity. Emma brought calm hands to the ties of Regina’s linen shirt and had just loosened the first one when her wrist was caught and held away. “You first.”

It was a request which Emma wasn’t even in a position to argue with, so she straddled Regina’s hips with her own, watching her eyes carefully to make sure she wasn’t flashing back. She lifted her hands to her linen shirt and quickly undid the ties, pulling the whole garment over her head and off. Then her leather breast bindings were only in the way, so she quickly undid the ends and unwound the whole thing, dropping it off the side of the bedspread.

The breeches required slightly more manoeuvrability, so Emma kneeled up to unlace them and slide them down and off her calves, along with her leather boots. Then there she was, knees parted either side of Regina’s thighs, utterly bare before her.

It was always gratifying to observe lust for her well-kept form – and Regina was no exception. Perhaps she was even a special case, because her interest wasn’t at all well-concealed. Nor should it be, Emma thought wryly to herself. Regina had the Captain naked above her, all because of natural beauty and a guilty conscience.

“May I?” Emma asked, hands again lingering by the ties of Regina’s linen shirt. She was well aware that the Princess had seen her naked before – by the lake and then again later on that day when she had been so drunk she could barely see straight. Whereas Emma had yet to be treated to the knowledge of how far Regina’s naturally tan skin extended.

The Princess licked dry lips but seemed to find herself incapable of speech as she opened her mouth. Instead, she just nodded. Emma kept her eyes locked on Regina’s as she unlaced her shirt. Flat, warm and callused palms slid up her concave belly, taking the shirt with it. She encouraged the brunette to sit up slightly so she could slide the garment all the way off. And then, obstruction finally disposed of, Emma took in Regina’s exposed breasts at last.

They were almost perfectly spherical, a little lighter than the rest of her soft skin and topped with dusky, now erect, nipples. Whining a little, Emma ducked to take one peak in her mouth. Regina let out a keen of what sounded like pleasure, but could have been surprise at her boldness. Emma sucked as hard as she dared, trying to bring her captive pleasure, but not at the cost of bringing back old memories too. She flicked over the hard nub with her tongue and Regina’s hand twisted in her hair as her hips bucked.

Emma grinned to herself. All of a week ago, she had judged the body of her new prisoner, knocked out and prone on the bedspread of the inn. She had mused to herself, guessing that the Princess would be beautifully responsive, assuming that she was a virgin. Well, she had been wrong about the virgin part, but Regina was making sounds that Emma had come to associate with whores feigning pleasure – but she knew the Princess was entirely genuine in expressing what she feeling.

Any kind of noise during sex usually pissed Emma off. It was distracting and always sounded so fake, but she could forgive Regina. Ironically, after two hundred and seventy five years of living, Emma had never slept with an innocent. There was something almost liberating about it, watching somebody feeling the burn sated properly by another’s hand for the first time.

Emma reached out her left hand to Regina’s other nipple, rolling the bud between the rough pad of her thumb and her forefinger. Then she released both, one with a wet pop and quickly assessed whether Regina was ready for the next step. Her body was, desperately searching for the stimulation it needed to be carried over the edge; her hips were bucking and she was arching her back without knowing what it was she was looking for.

But it was the Regina with all that _baggage_ Emma looked for – was she ready? The Captain would never know unless she took the initiative. She planted open-mouth kisses down her sternum and over her abdomen until she reached her breeches – the last frontier.

And then suddenly and unexpectedly, there were hands already there, hurriedly unlacing Regina’s breeches and pulling them down too-slim thighs. “I swear to God, Emma Swan,” the Princess hissed, pushed into indignity. “If you don’t touch me, I’ll… I’ll-“ But she was saved from having to create a threat by Emma abruptly sucking her clit into her mouth.

“Emma!” Regina screamed, prolonging her name and her hips bucked and twisted wildly. The Captain stared in awe at just how reactive Regina’s body was and stiffened her tongue, slowly licking all the way up her centre and over her hyper-sensitive clit. It was more than enough to send the Princess over the edge as she thrashed and wailed on Emma’s bed, coming undone.

The Captain crawled back up her body to lie next to her, the feeling of sweaty skin against her own not at all unpleasant. She pulled Regina into her and wrapped a muscled bicep around her concave belly.

Then something occurred to her. She hopped off the mattress and rummaged through the pockets of her breeches, trying to find what she had placed there earlier… “Aha!” Emma proclaimed, holding up the string of pearls Regina had discarded in her bedchambers earlier that morning. She wiggled her way back next to the curves of the Princess’s arms and tied the pearls around her neck once more. Regina gave a little whine of what sounded like satisfaction.

Emma closed her eyes to sleep soundly, satisfied with a job _very_ well done.

And then… “I love you,” Regina mumbled.


	13. And the Devil to Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Having received a lot of negative feedback, I would just like to remind you that I know Emma is a rude, ignorant asshole. I wrote her that way on purpose. And she’s probably going to get even worse before she gets better.  
> Warning: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS STRONG INFERENCE OF RAPE. PLEASE SKIP IF THIS IS A TRIGGER.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

The days began to blur past Emma. One day, before the crack of dawn, she pulled Regina out of bed and ordered her up on deck. Emma spent twenty minutes showing off her well-honed racer’s dive under the pretence of teaching her some good techniques. It was only after her sixth dive that Regina told her she could already dive.

Another afternoon, after Emma had surrendered the wheel of _The Bloody Blade_ to Grumpy, she handed Regina a sword and cleared a circle on deck for practice. To start with, Emma had her imitating various stances – defensive, mostly. Then they began to spar gently, Emma often stopping to correct the Princess’s stance or teach her the block for a certain strike.

But she wasn’t Regina’s only tutor during those long, hot afternoons. Sometimes her father would step in, taking Regina’s hand and guiding it in a furious duel against Emma’s own blade. Often, a sweaty Regina would sit down with a canteen of water and watch while she and Charming went at one another enthusiastically. After all two centuries of knowing each other, duelling to within an inch of each other’s lives was still their favourite way to bond.

Once, Emma had dropped Regina off with Red under instructions to teach her how the cannons worked. But when she had come back two hours later, both women were almost entirely stripped down from the exertion. Emma resented the lechery in Red’s eyes and had swiftly guided the Princess back upstairs.

One day, Emma had handed over the reins to her subordinates and made herself and Regina a part of the crew. She had taught her how to tie off a line, how to loose the sails and how to tell port from starboard. That evening, they had sat out on the Quarterdeck for an eternity with a bottle of rum for Emma, while the Captain showed her how to tell which way the wind was blowing and how to smell a storm on the breeze.

But it wasn’t only Regina becoming educated in her attempt to live as fully as possible before she was forced back into her gilded cage.

The Princess was determined that Emma would be literate by the time the _Blade_ was docked at Port Wordsworth. She was pleased to learn that Emma knew some primitive letters (N, E, S and W) but had her tracing many odd characters on paper. They spent long, tricky hours going through books Belle had left behind, Regina choosing saucy passages in an affectionately misguided attempt to make it more interesting for Emma.

But evenings were the most interesting time of all.

On one of her exploratory sessions through the ship, Regina had found a lute. A blushing Bashful had admitted to being able to play and Regina had situated him on the steps to the Quarterdeck with instructions to play a melody which Emma had never heard of before.

“Hey!” She had protested as Regina had dragged her to the spot where they had been duelling and sweating with swords that afternoon. “I have been to balls before, you know!”

“One or two at most,” Regina pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet you wore a scowl and the most outrageous gown you could find, and then refused to dance.”

“How would I thieve the ladies’ pearls if I didn’t dance?” Emma enquired innocently, as Regina placed her hands at her waist.

“Don’t you dare even think about thieving mine!” Regina warned her off.

Emma naturally took the lead of the dance, guiding Regina through a series of graceful steps. She wasn’t a perfect dancer by any stretch of the imagination but she knew her way around a very simple waltz.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Regina asked, once again surprised by Emma’s proficiency in unexpected areas, especially considering she couldn’t even read or write.

“Funny story, actually,” Emma said, reminiscent. “It was the night before I had to formally return the Sceptre of Spring to the doddering old fools in the Springlands court. I had Red and Charming with me because it was, oh…” the Captain thought hard. “Twenty or so years before Snow joined the crew, so Red was still my Quartermaster.”

“Snow only joined your crew –“ Regina’s face twisted as she did the sums in her head. “28 years ago? Wow – what’s the age difference between her and Charming?”

“Two hundred and ninety seven years,” Emma admitted. “Bigger than ours, even…” Her hand dipped dangerously low down Regina’s back, brushing the globes of her ass.

Regina frowned at her. “People watching,” she cautioned her. “Continue with the story, if you please.”

“Anyway,” Emma shook her head and grinned shamelessly at her lover. “We’d just been informed that there would be a ball to celebrate the Sceptre’s return and we were the guests of honour – so naturally we would have to dance.”

Regina winced. “Let me guess – all three of you boasted two left feet.”

“Not quite,” Emma shook her head. “Charming was up all night trying to teach us the dances we would need. The ball went off without a hitch… for the most part.”

“Come on then, Swan,” Regina challenged her. “How did you ruin the occasion?”

Emma studied the Princess and tried to decide how much detail was too much detail. Eventually she decided on an explanation both concise and family-friendly. “I met a very lovely woman whose name was, I remember, Lady Hermione of Bullcross. She was in an arranged marriage and unhappy about it, but before I could do more than flirt, her husband turned up. Well, he was a nasty bastard and wanted to duel me to the death… ”

The Princess’s eyes widened perceptibly. “Who won?” She demanded.

Shrugging, Emma twirled her round. “It was a draw. Though I did extract three cows, a sword and a contract of marriage to the next female heir to Bullcross… though I doubt I’ll ever have cause to use the latter, considering I managed to seduce the Princess of Springlands herself.”

Regina giggled. She pulled the Captain in closer than was strictly appropriate. “So you managed to stay out of our jail on that occasion, then? Are you a criminal anywhere else?”

“I’m wanted in two different lands,” Emma murmured. “And not for my body. For theft and conspiring to overthrow the monarchy, respectively.”

“Conspiring to overthrow the monarchy?” Regina asked inquisitively. “Should I be worried?”

Emma let out a bark of laughter. “It was a bullshit charge. Our lovely friend Queen Maleficent of Autumnlands tried to hire me to find Prince Thomas, who by all accounts went into hiding when the Queen killed his brother. I refused; she fabricated the worst charge she could conceive of – treason.”

 “How did you escape?” The Princess questioned breathily.

But just then, the music grounded to a halt and Emma drew back to kiss her hand. “I’ll tell you one day,” she promised. The Captain withdrew from the deck, where various pirates had begun to dance to the lively jig that Bashful struck up.

“Emma!” Regina called after her, but the Captain merely slid through a door and disappeared. Once on the other side, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Emma had been doing her very best to make Regina’s numbered days enjoyable and thrilling – so they would last her perhaps all her life. But all the while, what she had said to Emma that night when she had first fucked the Princess… Emma couldn’t seem to forget it. And whenever she was around Regina, she felt oddly stifled and yet… happy.

Her fist hit the wall with a thump as the Captain gnashed her teeth in frustration. She didn’t _want_ the Princess’s love and certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it. What if Regina expected her to give up her bounty, change her mind so that the two of them could sail the seas together… forever. Whimpering, Emma slid down the wall so she could duck her head between her legs in shame.

The worst of it all, though – was that Emma _wanted_ to. She wanted to be nauseatingly in love and say “don’t worry, darling… I won’t let them take you away from me.” She wanted tales written of the dread pirate Emma Swan falling under the spell of the beautiful Princess Regina and how they lived their fairytale existence somewhere out there on the seven seas.

She punched the wall again and pain shot through her wrist. She wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t submit. She was _Emma Swan_ , for fuck’s sake; she kept her own parents at arm’s length and stole from the rich to give to her crew. She had never _ever_ needed anybody, not since Bae, and Princess Regina was not going to change that.

Satisfied that her resolve would hold (at least _for now_ , a little voice whispered), Emma got up off the floor and sat at the desk of the little annex she had locked herself away in. It had been Belle’s map room, previously. But as her Navigator was no longer with them, the task of plotting a route had fallen to Emma… and it had been a long time since she had been forced to do such a thing. She had forgotten how much illiteracy impeded the process of route-plotting and, though Regina’s lessons were helping, Emma couldn’t hope to make progress quickly.

Unrolling the first of the maps, she settled in for a long night.

 

An hour in, the door was flung open. It was a very drunk, unsteady Grumpy, who pointed at her with his rum tankard. Red stood behind him, looking no less inebriated, but somehow managing to carry a whole stack of flagons and skins.

“You!” Grumpy shakily indicated her. “Never have no fun no more!”

He shut the door behind Red, who dumped both the pile of receptacles and herself on the floor. Grumpy fell to the ground next to her, feeding greedily on his tankard.

“Cut loose, Capt’n,” Red slurred. “Maps can wait. ‘Til sunrise.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow at both of them. “If I drink as much as you two obviously intend me too, I’ll be more preoccupied with how to cut off my own head at sunrise.” Nevertheless, she seated herself next to Red and helped herself to a skin.

What was it she had told Regina about her drinking, that night when she had her chained to the railings… still an untrustworthy, manipulative captive? _Oblivion is always better than pain_. It was ironic; pain then was the loss of love – the loss of Bae and her son. Pain now was living _with_ love, knowing that she would break the heart of an innocent.

 _But would it be any better?_ Emma asked herself. _If I let her think that I love her?_

No… she decided. The truth hurts… but living a lie would hurt a lot more.

And so Emma began to down her first skin of the night, her only intent to erase the pain of indecision from her mind.

 

There was a knock on the door that cut through the indigo-coloured haze in Emma’s mind. She tried to stumble to her feet, but could only manage to get on to her knees. Slowly she made her way over to the doorway and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “come in” to her toxic, jumbled brain.

The door slid open a crack and Regina’s tan face, pale in only the moonlight, looked down at her. Emma couldn’t see her expression from on her knees, but even in her animalistic state could deduce that the Princess was unhappy with her.

“Hey,” she smiled up at her from the floor, going for charming or seductive, whilst all the time knowing she must be a sight for sore eyes.

Regina said nothing, but crouched down to put an arm around her torso and hook her wrist under Emma’s left armpit. Then she hoisted her to her feet, which – much to Emma’s surprise – she could still feel. And still, the Princess was silent as she helped her back up on deck, across it and back down a set of stairs into her bedchamber.

Indeed, her first words were merely “drink some water.” She held out a full canister of the liquid, which Emma batted to one side. It spilled all over the floor and Regina sighed in exasperation. “What is wrong with you?” She demanded.

“What?” Emma mocked. “Don’t love me when I’m drunk?”

Regina noticeably recoiled and the Captain flopped down on her bedspread, trying to crawl up to where soft pillows were, but not having much success.

“Why are you doing this?” The Princess asked, so quietly Emma could barely even catch the words. She recalled the girl had seen her this drunk before, after Belle had nearly died because of her. Emma suspected that that evening, she had been very flirtatious rather than very rude and the change was a bit of a shock for Regina. Sighing, she rolled over onto her back.

“I care about you,” Emma informed her, unable to control the flow of words from her mouth. “Doesn’t mean I love you. Or that I’ll save you. ‘Cos I won’t.”

Regina looked down at her, but somehow the Captain still held all the power in this exchange. “I know,” the girl informed her, shy as a mouse. “I don’t expect –“

“Don’t you?” Emma asked her thickly, shuffling along to the end of the bed and meeting Regina’s eyes. “Do you know that when you’re married I won’t think about you? Won’t care about you? You may pop out a couple of infants and I’ll hear about it on my travels and remember those nights I spent fucking the Queen of Winterlands –“

 _Crack_. Emma had felt the sting of the slap on her cheek... hard.

“Stop,” Regina pleaded. Her hands were combing through Emma’s hair and she pressed a desperate kiss to her mouth. “Please… just stop.”

“Why?” Emma taunted her. “Because you _love_ me?”

Regina’s hands seemed to act of their own accord, smacking Emma’s shoulders and pushing her back down on the bedspread. “Shut up!” She yelled, covering the Captain’s body with her own. “Shut up,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You don’t want to hear my words?” Emma enquired, breathing alcohol into Regina’s face. “Get out!”

Instead, she found her chest suddenly bared to the Princess’s eyes as the girl ripped her shirt open. Then just as quickly, her breeches were torn from her legs and Regina was pressing against her crotch, _hard_. “Ouch!” Emma yelped, trying to scramble back from her touch but finding herself pinned. Then three fingers, with no warning whatsoever, sank into her body and started pounding at her core.

“Stop,” Emma ordered the Princess. “Regina! Stop!”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” the girl growled back. “I’m sure a dirty whore like you has had it much rougher than this.”

Then with a startling and clarifying realisation, Emma realised what was going on. _Role reversal._ Her own words had put Regina back in a place of powerlessness and the alcohol on her breath, which had previously triggered a flashback had this time triggered… this. Did Regina even realise what she was doing? Was this what it had been like for the newly-engaged scared little girl who had been forced to entertain a King in his bedchamber?

If Emma had been a naïve, virginal seventeen-year-old, what Regina was doing now probably would have terrified her too. But she wasn’t, she was approaching her 276th birthday and Regina was right, she had done it _much_ rougher than this. And she knew how to find pleasure in it, unlike a seventeen-year-old would.

Her pale hand reached up to wind itself harshly into the Princess’s hair and she brought her head down for a kiss. Regina’s fingers were chafing her pussy raw, so Emma reached down between their bodies so she could make it a little less painful by circling and stroking her clit. Gradually, between her own ministrations and the way Regina sucked on her tongue, the penetration felt less bluntly painful.

Emma could pinpoint the exact moment Regina realised who she was and what she was doing because she stopped kissing Emma and lost her balance, falling on the bedspread next to her. All of her fingers were suddenly withdrawn from her channel and Emma suddenly felt rather empty. Then the Princess began to sob and she tried to forget her own arousal, placing a callused hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Regina-“

“Don’t touch me!” The girl shrieked as she curled herself into the foetal position. “I – I tried to…” she spluttered.

“Regina,” Emma placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Look at me.”

The Princess refused, curling herself into an even tighter ball, if that was even possible and let out a shaky sob. “Regina,” Emma tried again. “I love you.”

“No you don’t,” the girl replied, her voice muffled in her thighs. “If you loved me, we wouldn’t still be sailing towards Port Wordsworth.”

Emma let out a long, frustrated sigh and shook the Princess’s shoulders, hard. “I forgive you!” She burst out and Regina unfurled herself, with wide eyes.

“Don’t forgive me!” Regina begged her, still sobbing with guilt. Emma wrapped her arms around the Princess’s torso and lay on her side, holding her until she cried herself out and fell into a fitful sleep.

Emma traced a finger along the curve of her shoulder. _When had life become so messy?_ A month ago she had been just another average pirate. A longer lifespan than most, perhaps, but a looter, smuggler, _killer_ …

She slowly withdrew her arm from where she had pulled Regina into her form and slipped out from under the sheets and blankets. She padded across the wooden floor, stopping only to grab her brown overcoat from where she had dropped it on the floor. Emma stuffed her arms through the sleeves and pulled it around her mostly naked form – Regina had ripped the shirt from her body and her breeches had been tossed somewhere unknown.

She shuffled up the steps towards the deck, keen to feel the sobering cold night air on her face. On deck, in solitude, everything felt simpler. Emma climbed the stairs to the Quarterdeck, but stopped suddenly, hearing the sound of voices arguing softly.

It was Charming and Snow. Her father, she remembered, was on shift for manning the wheel. But what was her step-mother doing there in the wee hours? Emma strained her ears, trying to listen in on their debate, which wasn’t too hard as the volume of their voices was increasing by the second.

“You’re insane!” Snow’s voice scoffed. It was a mockingly derisive statement and it was so unlike her step-mother that Emma had to restrain herself from checking it was actually her, and not some impersonator.

Charming interrupted. “I’m not insane, sweetheart. I’m sick of being pursued by my father and the Nevic Navy buffoons. Don’t forget – we have Henry to think of now, too.” Emma’s brow furrowed – why did they have to think of Henry? As his mother, wasn’t that her job?

“You are _not_ thinking of Henry!” Snow exclaimed. “If we do as you so ludicrously suggest, there’s a good chance we will both be killed and then what will that boy have left? Only Emma and God knows who she’ll choose to help her look after him! Henry will stay on board this very ship forever and learn to steal, pillage and murder!”

Emma saw red, and yet still managed to stay down. Her own parents thought she was incapable of caring for a child? And what the hell was Charming’s plan?

“But if we succeed - !”

“If we succeed,” Snow conceded. “It’ll be brilliant. Fantastic. Perfect, even. You’ll be King David I of Neverland and I’ll be –“

“Queen Mary I,” Charming said firmly. “The only _rightful_ heir to the throne of Winterlands.”

Emma gaped at the open air. They weren’t seriously considering… did her parents want to invade and take over Neverland?

Snow laughed from the Quarterdeck. “David!” She exclaimed, which was how they all knew he was in trouble. David was Charming’s real name, which was only very rarely heard on board. “I am not, nor will I ever be the rightful heir to the throne of Winterlands. I am _illegitimate!_ Just as Emma and Henry will never be in line to the throne of Neverland… because they are also _illegitimate!_ You’re living in a delusion that we’re all royalty and deserve to be living in grandeur!”

Emma’s head sank to her knees. So that was what the fight was really about. Although all three of them (Charming, Snow and Emma) had royal blood, only Charming knew what it was like to actually _be_ a royal. He had been the beloved Prince of his land for seventy years before he had fathered Emma and had run away with half the royal coffers to become a pirate.

Neither Snow nor Emma had been so lucky. Snow’s father was King Leopold of Winterlands, Regina’s fiancé and by most accounts, a nice man. Emma, knowing how he had refused any kind of relationship with Snow and how he had raped Regina, was of the opposite opinion. He had cast Snow (or Mary-Margaret then) out from his family as soon as she was born and she had joined Emma’s crew at the first opportunity.

So Snow was right. Charming was delusional. None of them deserved luxury, much less a crown.

“Charming,” Snow said softly, after long moments of silence. “Somebody’s listening in.”

In a brief burst of panic-fuelled adrenaline, Emma slid silently off the side of the stairs to the Quarterdeck and curled herself up in a ball in the shadows. Charming stomped past with his usual graceful subtlety.

Emma sat there, drowning in her own thoughts and concerns. Her primary concern was for the mental faculties of her father; how could he be so irrational to think that an invasion of Neverland would be a good plan? But what really hurt deep down was Snow implying that Emma would be a bad parent to Henry. Granted, she knew she wasn’t the best role model on the seven seas… but neither were Snow nor Charming! They all killed, looted, _fucked_ … her father and step-mother just happened to be married in the meantime.

Hearing no more sound from the Quarterdeck and hoping she was safe to move, Emma slid down the steps and into her chambers. Since the door had been blown off by the Nevic Navy, she had put up a sheet to protect her privacy. In this case it was a blessing, considering a door would’ve creaked and given away to Snow and Charming that she had been listening _intently_ to their argument.

Emma got up off the floor and dusted off her brown coat as she re-entered her own chambers. She hadn’t been prepared for crouching in dusty corners whilst eavesdropping and was shivering as she dropped the coat to the floor. Her naked form bared once more, she slid under the covers and lay next to her lover. Regina was warm but rather than doing the instinctual thing and wriggling away from Emma’s ice-cold body, she snuggled in so she was the little spoon, warming all of the Captain’s limbs.

“Where did you go?” The Princess asked sleepily.

Emma contemplated the long strands of brunette hair spread across her pillows, the warmth of their shared body heat and the flutter of fondness in her heart for the mother of her child. Then she did something quite out of character. Emma leaned in to kiss Regina on the forehead – an unnecessary display of affection.

“Just for some fresh air,” Emma reassured her. “Don’t worry.”

Then she wrapped her arm back around her lover and wondered why, suddenly, it felt like the world had stopped spinning around them… if only for a moment.

 

Of course, that feeling lasted only until Emma fell asleep. She dreamt of blood, and betrayal; her son being clutched in her parents’ dead hands and Regina, pinned beneath King Leopold and utterly helpless. And Emma in the middle of it all, the deciding factor in all of their fates and yet discarded, masked… unable to make a decision.

 She awoke with a start, breathing hard and felt a cool, soft hand caressing her forehead. “Are you okay?” Regina asked her quietly, propped up on one elbow.

Emma inhaled, long and slow, then exhaled calmly. Trying to regulate her breathing was the simplest thing to focus on, she knew. It kept at bay the horrors her mind had created for her to see in her dreams. “I’m fine,” she eventually replied to her lover’s question. She didn’t describe what she had seen or experienced. Opinion was divided on whether past events should be shared and relived or shut up in a box and locked away forever. Emma belonged to the latter camp, and so said nothing.

The Captain liked to think that Regina had learned by now that she wasn’t the type to sniffle and share her nightmares. But of course the girl was stubborn and inquisitive by nature. “What were you dreaming about?” She asked softly, still stroking sweaty strands of hair from Emma’s forehead.

The blonde rolled over onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at her. “My diseased mind amuses itself by creating images that would turn a pure soul black and erode what little is left of my own.”

There was a long pause from Regina’s side of the bed. “That sounds… tiring.”

And then suddenly there was a warm body at her back and an arm curved around her own waist. Emma frowned. She, by her very nature, was absolutely _not_ a little spoon and she was about to challenge Regina when she realised that… actually, she was rather comfortable.

Emma wouldn’t truly submit to her contentedness by doing something as foolish as kissing Regina’s palm or interlacing their fingers. But she did nestle herself firmly into the Princess. If she was offering her body as a human pillow, then who was Emma to refuse such hospitality?

“Regina,” she said softly. “About earlier on…”

“Please let’s not talk about it,” Regina pleaded. “I really am –“

“Sorry, I know,” Emma finished for her. “But it was my fault really, for getting so drunk. And I only got drunk because I have to do the navigation now, as well as be the Captain. So I was wondering, as you are _so_ well educated… would you like to be my new navigator?”

Emma could almost _hear_ Regina smirking behind her and she was about to re-think all this little spoon business when the Princess spoke. “Is that your roundabout way of asking me to join your crew?”

“Maybe,” Emma told her, being deliberately evasive. _Remember_ , she chided herself, _this is all temporary. Don’t get attached._

Regina’s thumb caressed her taut stomach. “What will you do once I am gone?”

“I hope,” Emma admitted. “That Belle will be back with us by then, otherwise I’m going to fucking crumble under the burden of both captaincy and navigation.”

“Why don’t you just ask somebody else to do it?” Regina asked curiously. “You’ve proven you don’t have to be literate to do it.”

Emma considered her question. Why _hadn’t_ she just delegated the role to somebody else? In truth, perhaps she had just been seeking an excuse to spend less time with Regina, who proclaimed to love her.

“Navigation requires both education and competence,” Emma told her eventually. “Nobody else on board fits the bill, and I know I can just about get by.” She covered Regina’s hand on her belly with her own. “You, on the other hand, will excel.”

“Now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me,” Regina teased hesitantly. “I’ve told you, Emma. I don’t know –“ she paused, and the Captain knew she was flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t know _how_. And now I’m not sure… if I can get past what I did to you. Earlier.”

Emma rubbed her thumb along the line of Regina’s forefinger and rolled over until the two of them were nose-to-nose and unusually intimate. “And I’ve told _you_ ,” Emma met their lips briefly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just like learning to swim or sword-fight. And as for earlier, you were right,” she admitted. “I’ve had it much rougher. So it really didn’t bother me.” She pecked her lips again. “I wanted it. I wanted _you_ … so much. And I still do.”

Regina tucked her head beneath her chin, partially, Emma suspected, so she wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. When she eventually spoke again, the Captain could hear the mortification in her tone; her desire to please Emma was conflicting with her staunch upbringing. “If I… will you… help?”

Emma ducked her head to kiss her lover again… “Of course.”

She let their tongues play together, sucking Regina’s gently into her mouth to relax her, as though she was going to be the one taking the lead. She wasn’t, of course, but figured that simulating their past experiences together to start with couldn’t hurt.

It seemed to work well; Regina’s hands interwove with her golden locks. Emma stretched her head back, hoping the Princess would take the hint and move her intentions down the pale column of her throat. She didn’t. Emma sighed. This might be harder than originally imagined.

She broke their kiss and locked eyes with the girl. This whole _relationship_ , whatever the hell it was, was harder than originally imagined. Enemies… captive and captor… parents… friends… lovers… Emma wanted nothing more than to throw the Princess off the ship before they got even _more_ intertwined than they already were. But she knew she couldn’t because she could admit, _with gritted teeth_ , that she cared for the girl.

So instead of yelling, or firmly directing, or losing her patience…. Emma took on the sort of personality that would be able to help Regina through this. Would be able to actually care for her, not just say that she did. She interlaced their fingers together, and dragged their joined hands slowly down over the top of her sternum and onto the incline of her right breast.

Emma unfolded Regina’s hand like a flower and pressed it against her, creating delicious friction against her nipple. She pulled the Princess’s thumb over her tight nub and rubbed it softly, until she was sure that Regina would continue without her help. Slowly, Emma let her own hand drop to her side, until her lover was fondling her right breast without any aid. “The left, too,” she said hoarsely.

Regina’s tan hand reached for her left nipple and then, without any prompting, began to roll it very gently between her thumb and forefinger. Taken by surprise, Emma let out a gasp and cursed herself when the Princess immediately halted all action. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” She asked timidly.

“Fuck, no, Regina…” Emma groaned. “If I can take three fingers without preparation, this is a _fucking_ cakewalk.” As if to accentuate her point, she thrust her chest up into the girl’s hand until she got the hint to keep _going_ before Emma did something desperate like died where she was lying.

As the Princess began to roll her nipple again hesitantly, Emma tried to quell natural impatience. But she didn’t think it was humanly _possible_ to come at such a slow pace. Taking Regina by complete surprise, she rolled the two of them over until she was on top.

“I thought – “ Regina started but Emma pressed a finger to her lips.

“If you were trying to kill me,” Emma began. “From slow burn arousal… it was a nice attempt.” And with that, she began to move up Regina’s body until her knees were sandwiched either side of her head.

“What are you doing?” She asked, obviously distracted by Emma’s nakedness… so close to her face.

“What does it look like?” Emma asked rhetorically, lowering her pussy until she hovered mere _inches_ from Regina’s mouth, which was open and panting. Then, showing initiative for only the second time that night, a pink tongue emerged from her luscious mouth and licked a long wet line up Emma’s slit.

“Fuck!” The blonde exclaimed as her knees almost gave way and she grabbed the headboard to balance herself.

Looking a little more confident in her abilities now, Regina gripped Emma’s hips with both hands and nosed Emma’s lower lips a little wider. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a soft tongue lave attention on her entrance. “Fuck,” she whined again. “Regina,” she choked out, having one last instruction to impart. “My clit. The little – _shit_ – nub, at… the, ah, the top…” And then the girl found her clit and by some beautiful miracle, enveloped it in her lips and started to suck. Hard.

Emma made a tiny little whining noise and came softly, her inner muscles spasming. She rolled off Regina’s face and sat down on the bed next to her with a thump. “Why?” She asked, a little breathlessly. “Were you so nervous about that?”

“So…?” Regina asked, her lips and chin glistening with Emma’s juices and _fuck,_ that was hot. She couldn’t resist, leaning over to suck gently on her lower lip and tasting herself.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Emma told her, breaking away briefly. “ _Ever_ again.” She threw her leg over Regina’s and ground up against her, delving deeply into her mouth with her tongue.

Regina whined, grinding her centre down on Emma’s thigh _almost_ shamelessly. “I love you,” she breathed, and before Emma could flinch and pull away, Regina pulled her hand over her heart. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, Emma. You’re the mother of my child. And you will _always_ be right _here_ , regardless.”

And then Emma uttered one word which could make or break them. “Okay.”

 


	14. We Lay to Fiddler's Green!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everybody who left such lovely reviews on the last chapter! I, of course, do completely understand negative reviews and welcome them along with positive ones!  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.”_  – Haruki Murakami

 

Emma awoke with an emotion coursing through her veins, almost entirely foreign to her. She searched her memories for this jittery, excitement, this passion, this level of devotion to one singular person and came up short.

The woman lying next to her interrupted her inquisitive thoughts with a loud groan. Regina stretched her arms out above her head and Emma was forced to dodge the limb in order to avoid getting punched. “Woah, there,” she teased, rolling onto her belly and tickling her lover’s sides. “Just because you’re part of the crew now, it doesn’t mean you can start punching the Captain in the face!”

Regina’s eyes shot open and she looked alarmed. “I _punched_ you?” She asked incredulously. “But it’s so early in the morning!”

Emma sniggered as she increased the ferocity of her tickling. Regina squirmed beneath her, and then Emma found herself on her back as the Princess rolled them over. They both laughed at nothing at all, but it was the best kind of laughter. Regina met her lips over and over again, unable to get enough of each other but they couldn’t stop laughing long enough to kiss properly. It was a very pleasant dilemma, indeed.

Eventually, having seemingly tired herself out, Regina flopped off Emma’s body and back onto the bed. “What’s on the agenda today?” She wanted to know, speaking slightly breathlessly.

Emma bit her lip. “Today, we dock in Tortuga.” Next to her, she could feel the Princess freeze up and stiffen on the bed and quickly realised she had never familiarised the girl with the agreement between herself and Queen Cora. “Don’t worry,” she was quick to reassure her lover. “Your mother arranged to meet us at Port Wordsworth. Tortuga’s just a stop on the way.”

Regina visibly relaxed, sinking back down into the bed. “What are we stopping for exactly?”

Aware of exactly how her true purpose in visiting Tortuga would go down with her lover, Emma kept her answer deliberately vague. “Re-supplying mostly, but after over a month I think my crew are getting cabin fever.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at the Captain, but before she could call her out there was a sound from outside the sheet Emma had used to replace her destroyed door. “Captain?” Charming enquired, sounding hesitant. “Are you decent?”

“Sure,” Emma replied easily, just as Regina hit her on the arm and burrowed down underneath the covers. She was entirely covered by a blanket when Charming entered the room.

He looked discomfited, with every reason. Emma was sitting up against the headboard, naked with only a sheet to protect her modesty, whilst there was obviously a human-shaped lump in the covers next to her. “Snow and I would like to talk to you… before we dock in Tortuga.”

“About?” Emma asked sharply, having been awaiting this particular talk ever since she had eavesdropped on her parents’ argument the other night.

He bit his lip, clearly not walking to say in front of Regina. Emma sighed. “Fine,” she agreed. Normally she wouldn’t have hesitated to say ‘yes’, a good Captain kept in communication with his Quartermaster and Boatswain after all, but she wanted to avoid this talk more than anything.

“How far until Tortuga?” Emma enquired, just as Charming was backing up towards the door.

“Not sighted yet,” her father muttered, then darted through the sheet and back up the stairs. Emma couldn’t contain a chuckle as she swung her legs off the bedspread. After all the time they’d known each other, she would’ve thought her father would have been well-used to her nudity, drinking, assorted bed partners… etc.

“Is he gone?” Regina asked sleepily, wriggling from under the covers to regard Emma with doleful eyes.

“Yeah,” Emma confirmed, tugging her breeches up her calves. “But I have to go and talk to him, rather than…” she leant across the bed and pecked Regina’s full lips. “Doing that all day. As much as I want to.”

Regina’s eyes followed her as she pulled her linen shirt down over her head. “Is this what you’ve been worrying about all week?”

Her question caused Emma to frown. Was she so transparent to her Princess now? “Yes, but how’d you –“

“When you’re worried,” Regina told her. “You tap your knee with your right hand. Always.”

“Huh,” Emma paused contemplatively, tying her sash around her middle. “I’ve been worried because my dearest father is about to make a very stupid mistake indeed and he’s going to ask my help to do it.”

“Will you?” Regina quizzed her, as Emma shrugged on her coat.

The Captain paused on her way to the sheet-that-passed-as-a-door, looking back at her lover. The girl was propped up on one elbow and her right breast was bared to the cool air, though she seemingly hadn’t noticed. Her sleek brunette hair fell around her naturally inquisitive face and brown eyes stared soulfully up at her. It was a picture no man could ever deny. Or woman.

“I have a soft spot for foolish endeavours,” Emma admitted, before ducking round the sheet and jogging up on deck.

It was another busy, bustling morning on board _The Bloody Blade_. Geppetto had recently decided that the Quarterdeck stairs had sustained too much damage in the battle with the Nevic Navy to be repaired, and so he was going to replace them entirely. Emma would have no problem with that normally, but he had employed half of the crew to do the muscle work and she had to dock the ship in port later on.

“Captain!” Geppetto hailed her as she stood, observing the sweaty tendrils of Red’s hair and Grumpy’s straining biceps. “Come to assist?”

“Later,” she promised her Master Carpenter. “Snow and I need to hack out re-supplying details.” As suspected, when hearing the prospect of such a tedious meeting, Geppetto waved her off with a grimace.

Emma descended the steps to forecastle, ducking under the first line of hammocks to find Snow and Charming sitting on the bed in their cabin. The former couldn’t meet her eyes. The latter didn’t even try.

“What’s going on?” She asked from the doorway, reluctant to step inside. For days now, ever since she had overheard their argument on deck, she had gone out of her way to avoid them and this conversation. Part of her, although she had heard much worse, resented her supposed parents for their implication that she was an unfit mother. She _knew_ that much, goddamnit. But she didn’t think either of them had the right to call her up on it, considering Charming had abandoned her as a baby and Snow had never had a biological child of her own.

“Captain,” Snow started, reverting to her formal address from… nerves? “Your father has a proposition for you.”

“Yes?” Emma raised her eyebrows, directing her gaze towards Charming.

“I… well – we,” Charming sputtered for a few seconds, before seemingly pulling himself together and, finally, meeting Emma’s eyes. “I want to invade Neverland.”

Sighing, Emma walked over to him and flopped down on the bed. “I can’t believe I left my very naked, very beautiful Princess behind for this,” she complained, rubbing her hands over her eyes.

Snow grimaced. “Will you at least listen to what he has to say?”

“No need,” Emma pointed out. “Charming misses the life of royalty, but can’t go back since he looted daddy’s coffers and got disinherited. Luckily for him, daddy is a shitty ruler, so the peasants aren’t very happy with him. So if the Prodigal Son returns to overthrow the King and form his own court, nobody will complain _very_ much…”

Charming opened his mouth but Emma held up a hand to forestall his rant of objection. “If you’re about to give an impassioned speech on how crap the Nevic peasants are treated, then you’re preaching to the choir. I’ve seen a hell of a lot more of it than you have.” She sighed. “But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, the right course isn’t always the most violent one.”

Her father looked at her and exhaled. “What would you suggest?”

Before she answered, Emma got up from the bed and shut the door behind her, locking it tight. She didn’t want anybody lying around in a hammock overhearing this.

 

It was noon before Sneezy, armed with a telescope and many tissues, first sighted Tortuga on the horizon.

Tortuga was merely a speck but Emma shivered with anticipation as she spooned pickled grapes out of a can and into her mouth. That was the problem with long sailing voyages – food. Anything fresh spoiled in the first week and then you had salted meats and the like. But it wasn’t long before even that went off and you were stuck with – Emma looked down into her can and shuddered – pickled substances.

She had taken over the wheel from Bashful almost as soon as she had come up on deck, ordering him politely to help out with Geppetto’s operation… which was still in progress. The first three new steps had been nailed firmly to the ship, but the remaining four were still in scattered pieces across the deck. As she watched, Red raised a hammer and brought it down hard with a loud bang, driving another nail into the wood.

“Good! That’s good!” Geppetto praised in an accent she thought originated in the Dragon Keys, but couldn’t be quite sure.

Charming emerged from the forecastle and Emma watched him go over to Geppetto, tugging off his linen shirt all the while to reveal sturdy biceps and firm abs. Even from Emma’s clinical perspective, he was a fine specimen of manhood and she couldn’t help but be a little bit proud of her genetics.

“Yours are better,” said a voice from behind her as a lean, feminine body molded itself against her.

“Princess Regina,” Emma scolded. “You’re becoming most brazen! And what am I better at now?”

Regina laughed, long and low. “Your abdominal muscles.” Her tan hand crept under Emma’s linen shirt and splayed fingers over the twitching muscles there. “Better than Charming’s.”

“I should hope so!” Emma exclaimed in mock outrage. “It’d be a little sad if the father was in better shape than the daughter.”

Regina laughed again and detached herself from Emma, snatching the can of pickled grapes from her hand and using her finger to clean out the inside. The Captain watched her with something approaching awe. “You’re becoming part of the crew, my dear girl. Whatever happened to using the proper cutlery?”

“I’ll be using proper cutlery for the rest of my life,” Regina pointed out. “Might as well make the most of my fingers whilst I still can.”

Emma chuckled. “Make the most of them in me and I promise to reward you.”

“Deal,” Regina brought their lips together and nipped down, before joining the carpentry crew and commandeering a hammer for herself. Emma touched a finger to her lips, where she had a little indent from the Princess’s teeth. _Odd_ , she thought to herself.

And she continued to think so the rest of the afternoon as she steered the ship towards Tortuga. Regina got involved with banging nails and positioning wood, even at one point, to Emma’s delight, removing most of her layers besides her shirt and breeches.

As evening drew in on the _Blade_ , Emma was loathe to pull the merry-making crew from their task, but they would be soon docking and she needed all hands on deck to make port. So it was with reluctance that she opened her mouth to begin bellowing.

“ALL HANDS ON DECK!” She yelled and was sad to see the crew disperse to their stations, some even taking their tankards of rum with them. Lines were untied and sails hoisted as Emma slowly guided the ship into the docks. Bashful took a leap onto the pier and tied off the first line, followed by Happy, then Sleepy.

“LOWER THE ANCHOR!” Emma bellowed and with a loud splash, knew that her instructions had been followed. The ship was well and securely docked and the gangplank went down with a clatter. Emma sighed in relief – cabin fever wasn’t just for the crew – and strode off towards the Port… forgetting for the moment…

“Wait!” Regina called from behind her and Emma closed her eyes. Recent breaches of etiquette or no, she knew with absolute certainty the Princess wouldn’t be able to handle Tortuga. The drinking, the dice games, the whores… well, maybe having worked in a brothel – she’d be able to handle the whores.

Still, it looked like her regular trip to _Blue’s_ was out this time.

“Come on then,” Emma said resignedly, holding out her arm for Regina to take. Just as long as the Princess didn’t mind helping her to interview potential new crew members.

Unlike at night, Tortuga during the day was a tired old place. Long unemployed beggars roamed the streets while dodgy merchants did their business. Thankfully now the evening reigned and pirates that had been abed all day crept out from their hovels.

Emma had a quiet word with the bartender of _The Snake’s Sceptre,_ her old haunt, and reserved both a room for the evening and a booth in which to recruit new crew members. Regina didn’t look quite as out of place as Emma had feared she would; perhaps those five years cleaning a brothel had come in handy after all.

“Go and have a word with some of them,” she quietly directed Red, Charming and Grumpy… indicating all the beefy, intimidating pirates hanging around the tavern. Next to her, Snow’s fingers were interlaced as she tapped impatiently on the wooden table whilst on her other side, Regina stared deeply into her rum tankard.

Emma had been hesitant to buy the Princess a drink, knowing what her feelings had been on drinking previously. But what the Captain had predicted had come to pass; Regina had lost her son… the only remaining question was had she lost her morals along with him?

“Are we going to find Belle?” Regina murmured, as Emma spied the first potential crew member of the night making their way over.

“If she’s still here,” Emma commented. “She’ll have been keeping an eye out for our docking and will be able to find us soon enough.”

Regina didn’t speak for a long time after that. Emma talked with many men and a few women, judging their sea-faring and sword-fighting abilities casually. In truth, recruitment was more about instinct and a quick background check than anything else. If Emma didn’t like the look of a man’s face – he was rejected. If she appreciated the muscles in another’s upper arm – he was accepted.

“Another?” Emma asked her Princess between pirates, noticing she had emptied her tankard.

“I’ll get it,” she replied, untying Emma’s purse from her belt with one hand and pivoting herself over the table to get out from the corner in which she had wedged herself.

Snow grimaced. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re in a lot of trouble with that one, Emma.”

“You’re in a lot of trouble with this whole overthrowing-the-Nevic-monarchy business,” Emma pointed out to her step-mother. “At least I’m getting laid.”

 

Snow sighed. Then she reached behind her neck to unfasten the leather chord that was always tied around her throat like a necklace, its silver charm dangling in her clavicle. “I want you to take this.” She dropped it into Emma’s outstretched palm.

Her step-daughter looked at her with uncomprehending eyes. “This is your charm. The one that prevents pregnancy.” She lifted the one that lay in the hollow of her own throat. “I have one already.”

“It’s not for you,” Snow admitted. “It’s for Regina.”

Emma sighed and closed her eyes. “You’re that determined to stay the only heir to the throne of Winterlands, huh? So much so that you’re giving its new Queen a pregnancy prevention charm?”

Snow swallowed, whether out of nerves or guilt Emma didn’t know. “It’s not just for me. Think of how Regina would feel, if forced to carry my father’s baby.” A wave of nausea rose in Emma’s throat at the very thought. His spawn, a cruel combination of him and Regina, something to _remind_ her every time she would look at it how he had _forced_ himself on her… it would be a child of marital rape. Neither Regina nor her children would deserve that.

“You know you might conceive now, right?” Emma asked, shoving the charm in her pocket. “Although I suppose it’s win-win for Charming. You stay the only heir to the throne of Winterlands and you’ll have a legitimate child in line for the throne of Neverland.”

Snow smiled, although there was no warmth in it. “I knew you’d see it our way.”

But then their conversation was interrupted by the smashing of glass. Emma looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the sound. Unfortunately, she found it in the dead centre of the room. Regina stood with a smashed bottle in her hand and a greasy-haired pirate at her feet, looking guilty.

“ _Shit_ ,” Emma muttered fervently.

She knew from experience that a single act of violence was more than enough to start a bar fight… and that was exactly what the Princess had just accomplished. Emma, momentarily frozen by shock, snapped out of it and vaulted over the table just in time to knock Regina to the ground. A litany of bottles flew over their heads.

Emma punched a suspiciously charming pirate in the face as he reached down a hand to help them up and hauled Regina up onto her knees. Pirates wreaked havoc around them as more glass was smashed and there were many dull thuds of fists hitting flesh.

She pulled the Princess free of the fight and began to race up the stairs, ducking under the flailing arms of a pirate about to lose his balance and trusting Regina to do the same. A nasty-looking lad with lots of tattoos took a swing at her, but Emma dove at his knees and caused him to topple all the way down the stairs.

The Princess nearly overtook her as Emma jogged towards the room the landlady had given her for the night and she unlocked it quickly. “Get in,” she ordered Regina without preamble. “I’ll come and let you out when this all blows over.”

Emma would never know if Regina had argued back, because she shut the door in her face and locked it. Striding back along the corridor, she swerved a man’s foot and socked him in the jaw, watching in satisfaction as he plummeted over the bannister and disappeared in the mob that was forming in the centre of the tavern.

The Captain hopped onto the well-polished bannister of the staircase and slid down into the fray, bashing a pair of thug’s heads together as she dismounted. It took a great deal of persistence and elbows to wade her way through the throng. But when she eventually reached the doorway and wrenched it open, there was nobody there to stop her from leaving.

The air outside the _Snake’s Sceptre_ was cool and a welcome change after the heat of the tavern brawl. Emma flipped up the hood of her coat and blended into the shadows. She had something to investigate, and it would not do well to be accompanied. Not with Regina, not even with Red or Charming.

Not for the first time, she was grateful that Rumplestiltskin’s house was merely a stone’s throw from the tavern. It meant that she could slip out of a bar fight one minute and be facing his heavy wooden door the next. She contemplated it… if Hook had succeeded, and she felt sure that he must have, there would be nobody to answer the door. If Hook had failed, which would be uncharacteristic, but if there was one foe he couldn’t vanquish, it would be Rumplestiltskin… then Emma had the feeling that the magician wouldn’t be very pleased to see her.

Coming to a conclusion, Emma dipped her hand into her coat pocket and brought out an old, worn leather pouch. Selecting from it two lengths of iron, she inserted them into the lock and wiggled them about until she heard the satisfying _click_ of a door successfully unlocked.

Hesitating for a moment, Emma drew her sword from its scabbard. It was always better to be safe than sorry, after all. Pushing the door open, she began to cautiously advance forward down Rumplestiltskin’s corridor. There were no bodies on the floor, no smashed belongings and no signs at all that a confrontation had taken place.

Stepping forward, her foot crunched down on an object… hard and misshapen. She crouched down to inspect it – one solitary iron key. Perplexed, Emma slotted it into the keyhole to the house and was shocked to find that it fit perfectly. But the door had been locked from the _outside_. But she soon solved the mystery. There was an inch gap between Gold’s door and the ground, easily enough space to slide a key through.

She put it in her coat pocket for safe keeping and continued down the hallway.

“Hello?” She called out softly into the darkness. But it was only the quiet scurrying of mice underneath the floors that replied.

It didn’t take long to do a quick sweep of Rumplestiltskin’s house and shop. It was empty, deserted. _Something_ had obviously happened. But the only things out of place were the key… and one silvery robe, made out of expensive fabric from the Summerlands. Emma had found it on the floor of Gold’s bedroom and several possibilities came to her. Belle had managed to thwart Hook and she and Rumplestiltskin had resumed their relationship before disappearing… wherever. Rumple had employed a whore in Belle’s absence, who had been forced to flee when Hook came calling. Or the magician liked to wear silk robes in his spare time.

Regardless of the reason, it was an oddity. And Emma was keeping it to think over the conundrum some more, she told herself firmly. It was not at all because she thought the rose pink silk would set off Regina’s tan skin _perfectly._

She locked the door of Rumplestiltskin’s house carefully behind her and stowed the key back in her pocket as she began to walk back to the tavern. Well, _that_ had been a waste of time. She had learnt nothing that could point to Hook’s success or whereabouts. For a moment, her thumb hovered over her compass tattoo, but she withdrew.

For one thing, if Hook was on Tortuga, she felt certain they would have already reunited. And there was no point in summoning him if he wasn’t on the island, regardless of her mild concern.

No, Hook was more than capable of taking care of himself. It was Regina she had to worry about, she reminded herself. Princess Regina, who had a little under two weeks left to actually _live_ her life. Hook had survived two hundred and eighty five years of adventures. He didn’t need Emma’s concern.

She walked back along the street, scuffing her boots on the gutter. If Rumple had come out on the other side alive, had he taken Henry and Belle with him? For that matter, where _were_ Bae and Henry? Had Aurora looked after Emma’s son as she had said she would?

Just outside the door to the _Snake’s Sceptre_ , Emma paused. She could pursue the trail Hook or Rumplestiltskin had left behind her tonight… but what if it led to nowhere? Or worse, opened up a very complex investigation that would take a lot of time to complete? Emma didn’t really _have_ that sort of time, especially with a captive Princess upstairs and waiting for her. No, she decided. If the whereabouts of her son, Hook, Rumplestiltskin, Belle or even Baelfire were unknown to her when she returned from Port Wordsworth, _then_ she would track them down.

40 days were a long time. But Emma had known people to fall off the grid for longer.

She pushed open the door into the tavern and strode into the welcoming warmth. Mercifully the fight seemed to have abated, although Emma suspected that the many tankards of ale that were being passed around (‘on the house!’ a harried bartender exclaimed) had something to do with that. She grabbed four of the tankards that were being banged down with haste on the bar and jogged up the stairs to where Regina was waiting for her.

Emma shoved the key in the lock, balancing the tankards under her other arm and eventually succeeded, after much cursing, in opening the door. Stepping inside, she was treated to the vision of Regina, reclining on the mattress, leafing through a book and deep in concentration.

Emma didn’t want to disturb her adorable focus, but it seemed inevitable as she shut the door behind her with a click and Regina looked up at her. “Is the brawl over?” She enquired, eyes running up and down Emma’s body to check for injuries.

“Don’t worry,” Emma placated her. “I’m still intact.”

Regina’s eyes travelled to the tankards still stowed under her arm. “And celebrating with ale, I see?”

Emma’s lips quirked as she set the bottles down on the mattress, gesturing for the Princess to take one. She clambered up to the headboard to sit on the pillows with her own tankard and found, to her displeasure, that she was sitting on something hard. Emma fished under her buttocks to find the book Regina had been reading when she had come in. “What does the title say?” She asked curiously, only understanding one or two words. Her reading had come on… but not that well.

“The Split of Nevermore: To What Extent Was Magic Culpable?” Regina told her, hesitantly popping the cork on a tankard of ale and taking a sip.

“Culpable?” Emma’s eyebrows drew together, having never before heard the word.

Regina’s lips pursed. “Deserving of blame. For instance…” she drew Emma’s lips to hers and kissed her the way Emma loved, wet and dirty. “You are culpable for turning me into _this_.”

“And what is _this_ , exactly?” Emma enquired with an amused smile. She tangled a hand in Regina’s brunette locks, which had become steadily lighter and glossier the more time she had spent out at sea. She brushed her lips across Regina’s gullet, and sucked tan skin into her mouth.

Regina whined, fists clenching in the sheets. “Some sort of loose woman, I think. Before you, I was very tight-laced.”

“You cleaned a brothel for a living.” Emma pointed out as she pushed Regina’s cotton breast bindings down, over her nipples to the bottom of her sternum. She enveloped a dusky peak in her mouth, eliciting a long moan from the Princess’s mouth. One of these days, Emma contemplated as she internally flinched at the noise, she’d have to gag Regina. Lustful sounds really did piss her off.

“No, before that,” Regina told her, breathlessly as Emma’s lips travelled down past her rib cage and over her abdomen. “There was somebody, back in Springlands, whom I loved dearly.”

Emma paused in her oral assault of Regina’s body and looked up at her. She was remembering the adventure in Hollow Lagoon, with the siren. First, the Princess had seen Emma herself. And then she had seen a man… Daniel, she had called him. Emma licked her lips. “Daniel?” She enquired tentatively.

Regina looked puzzled. “How did you –“

“The siren,” Emma explained quickly, hovering over the other girl’s stomach.

“Come up here,” Regina ordered, patting the pillow next to her. “And I’ll tell you exactly why I was so eager to escape the life of royalty.” It was an offer too good to be true, so Emma shimmied back up her lover’s body and sat again by the headboard, taking a swig of ale.

“It started when I turned sixteen,” Regina began, eyes slightly unfocused. “My father bought me a horse for my birthday and he was named Rocinante. And obviously with a new horse, came a new stable boy. His name was Daniel. Anyway, the long and short of it was…” she ran a nervous hand through her hair. “We fell in love and he proposed.”

“Marriage?” Emma asked incredulously. “He proposed marriage to a sixteen-year-old?”

“Actually he proposed on my seventeenth,” Regina admitted. “Anyway, I was quite adamant that we should wait until we were married to… consummate.” She took a swig of ale to fortify herself. “Only my parents signed away my future and suddenly a stable boy was undesirable company for a Princess to keep.”

“They sent him away?” Emma asked sympathetically.

“Do you really think if they had merely sent him away, that I would have run all the way to Neverland? Without him?” Regina asked dryly and Emma shook her head, feeling dread grow in the pit of her belly. “Well first, King Leopold paid us a visit, put a ring on my finger and took any semblance of innocence I had.” The words were said clinically, unemotionally and yet Emma still flinched. “The wedding date was set for three months after Leopold’s first visit. Daniel and I continued to see one another, although it was much, much harder than before. My mother was watching me; I think she suspected there was something else going on. But the first real sign she had that something was wrong was when I missed my monthly bleed.”

Against her will, Emma sucked in a breath. “Oh my Gods, Regina…”

The other girl swallowed. “My mother found out. And she didn’t believe me when I told her what Leopold had done… so she had to find another culprit. She chose Daniel.” Regina smiled wryly. “Ironically, there was no way it could’ve been his.”

“What happened?” Emma asked in a hushed tone, her hand sub-consiously finding Regina’s abdomen where, once, a child had grown.

“She killed him,” Regina stated coolly. Emma wondered if she’d become detached from what had happened in her own mind, or if she had simply had too much time to come to terms with his death. “And she gave me a potion, poison maybe. I miscarried.”

Not knowing what to say, Emma pressed a kiss to Regina’s hair. “Princess, I am –“

“It doesn’t matter,” Regina said brusquely. “I’m sure I’ll have a brood of little Leopolds to replace my baby soon enough.”

Remembering what Snow had given her earlier, Emma fished in her coat pocket, finding the charm was still there. She held it out on her palm to Regina, who took it, looking curious. “What’s this?” She asked wearily, in a tone that belied her supposed indifference to her past.

“A charm to prevent pregnancy,” Emma told her, holding out her own for Regina to see. “They’re very effective.” Without a word more, Regina tied it around her neck.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, nestling her head in the crook of Emma’s neck. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I… if we conceived a child.”

Emma combed Regina’s hair with her fingers. “Now you never will.”


	15. The Bell Has Been Raised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness! NaNoWriMo is kicking my ass.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.” –_ George R R Martin

 

Emma awoke the next morning and quite honestly wished she hadn’t bothered.

She rolled over in bed, hands reaching out for the warmth of a second body and found… nothing. Only mussed sheets and the residual warmth of someone who had been there a few minutes before. Emma sat bolt upright in terror. She had believed that her relationship with the Princess had moved to a new place and subsequently Regina would have stopped her bordering-on-ridiculous escape attempts.

What if she had been wrong?

Granted, she was very rarely wrong about people. For the most part they were easy to read, with basic motives and basal needs. Regina, she had always known, was different. Only now Emma knew everything there was to know about her lover and… oh Gods, had she run?

The Captain kicked questionable sheets off her legs and pulled a shirt over her head and breeches up her legs at record speed. She wrenched open the door to their room and bounded down the stairs, searching for any trace of the brunette girl. “C’mon,” she muttered frantically, looking around for Regina.

Then, to her immense relief, a head turned from the bar and Regina smiled warmly at her. Emma was struck. To think that less than two months ago, this same woman had been dirty, dressed only in rags and with a rabid urge to return to her son, at any cost.

Now she was close to unrecognisable. Her sun-lightened hair hung around her open, smiling face and her clothes, while still hanging off her thin form, were no longer rags. And she was no longer trying to bite Emma’s head off. Always an improvement in anybody. Especially someone Emma was bedding.

“You’re up early?” Regina quipped amusedly. She held up Emma’s money bag. “I was just paying our bill, and apologising to Heron, the barkeep, for that little commotion last night.”

Heron was an ugly chap, boasting an ale belly and a scraggly beard that might have been impressive if it didn’t showcase what remained of his breakfast. “ _Little_ commotion,” he snorted.

“Yes, we’re very sorry,” Emma sidled up to the Princess and slid an arm around her waist. “It won’t happen again, Heron.”

“I don’t care who you entertain in my rooms, Swan,” he grumbled. “I draw the line when they destroy half the common room.”

Emma sighed, hooking her money bag from Regina’s fingers and tossing it on the bar. “An apology.”

Heron snagged the bag with greedy hands. “Done.”

Nodding in exasperated gratitude, Emma marched Regina back up the stairs with all deliberate haste. The door to their room was still ajar and she ushered the Princess through it. “Sit.” She ordered in a tone that forbade argument. She began to gather their remaining garments off of the floor as Regina watched her inquisitively.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s coming out of _your_ bounty,” Emma pointed out, with no small amount of irony. Then, hesitating but too curious not to ask, Emma drew a breath. “Why didn’t you run?”

“What?” Regina asked in a puzzled tone, reclining back on the pillows as Emma bundled their belongings together.

“Why didn’t you run?” Emma repeated. “When you woke up this morning. There were no handcuffs. No lock. Nothing at all to stop you from walking out and making a new life on Tortuga.”

Regina sighed, as if exasperated that Emma had even dared to ask her that question. “Well firstly, Tortuga would be a god-awful place to make a new life,” she pointed out. “But more importantly, I’m holding on to this stubborn piece of faith that you will change your mind.”

Abandoning the packing, Emma flopped back down onto the mattress next to the Princess. “Why?” She questioned, rolling over on her front to look Regina in the eye. “I’m not trustworthy. I don’t give a damn about anybody’s wellbeing except my own. I’m the last person _anybody_ would want to put faith in.”

“Maybe once,” Regina admitted. “I wouldn’t have trusted you as far as I could throw you. But now…”

“Now, what?” Emma’s mood had noticeably soured. It was hard enough to break somebody’s heart and surrender them to someone who deserved them even _less_ than you did. But breaking somebody’s faith in you was irreparable.

“How can I love somebody who I don’t trust?” Regina’s fingers danced along her jaw line, caressing it gently. “How could anybody live like that?”

Emma knew she was supposed to reply in kind. Say something soppy; say something worthy of all the things Regina had entrusted to her. But she was Emma Swan. She let nobody down, except the people who loved her. Because at the end of the day, she was a pirate. She had a thousand lives on her conscience. She wasn’t meant for love, or for family. “You’d be surprised,” she said hoarsely. “What you can live with.”

She rolled over onto her back, facing the window rather than Regina. She knew what she would find in her face. Betrayal, hurt. It was old news, tired news. She was _sick_ of letting people down. Why couldn’t they all stay the hell away from her?

A hand crept up her back and grasped her shoulder. “I know what I can’t live without,” a tentative voice told her, growing in determination.

“Please for the love of the Gods,” Emma begged her. “Don’t say me.”

“Love,” Regina told her simply. “A very wise woman once told me, that when you’re living without it regardless, oblivion is always a better option than pain.” Her voice became rough and raw as she nestled her nose into Emma’s hair. “I don’t want to be oblivious.”

 

Emma was almost grateful to be accosted by Snow the moment the two lovers stepped aboard the _Blade_. She allowed herself to be willing shown into the Map Room, where her step-mother had obviously been festering for some time already, judging by the many papers strewn around and the empty tankards lying on the table. “Long night?” She asked sardonically.

“Shut it, Swan!” Her Quartermaster half-yelled, frustrated. “It can’t be done!”

“Woah!” Emma held up her hands to placate her step-mother, as though trying to calm a rogue animal. “What can’t be done?”

“The takeover. The toppling. The ambush.” Snow listed. “Whatever the hell you call what Charming wants to do to the throne of Neverland, it’s _never_ going to work. We don’t have the resources, the cunning, the force…”

Emma sighed, sitting down amongst the strewn maps. She picked up a heavily annotated map of Neverland and attempted to decipher Snow’s scrawl with her semi-illiteracy. “Have you accounted for the fifty thousand gold I’ll get for delivering Regina?”

“What?” Snow asked, dropping her pen in surprise. “Firstly, are you still going through with that? And secondly, I thought you were going to put it away? Why would you give it to us for an insane plan that might not even work?”

“Why wouldn’t I go through with it?” Emma asked, puzzled. “And if your ‘insane plan’ works, I’ll never have to worry again.”

Snow ran a hand through her hair. “Emma…”

“You need it. I don’t.” Emma told her persuasively. “And it’ll only be a loan, anyway. C’mon, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that.”

Her step-mother inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Okay.” She pencilled in something on the paper in front of her. “Okay.”

“So why are you doing all of this anyway?” Emma leant forward over the table. “Isn’t Charming the invader?”

“Charming’s busy entertaining visuals of his triumphantly slaying everybody that stands before what he now sees as _his_ throne,” Snow snorted derisively. “And yours truly is stuck with the figures. Wars are expensive, there’s a lot of paperwork and accounting behind all the glory and the blood.”

Emma sat for a moment, watching as Snow scrawled further notes across the parchment. “I gave Regina your charm.”

“Did she like it?” Her step-mother asked absently, crossing out a line.

Shrugging, Emma plucked her blade-cleaning cloth from her belt. “I guess. Are you…” she hesitated, beginning to run her knife along the cloth in long strokes. “Will you have a child, now?”

“That can be a consequence of taking off a pregnancy prevention charm,” Snow agreed, gravely serious. “Would that upset you?” She wanted to know, looking up from the parchment.

“I’m a big girl,” Emma commented, flipping her knife over in her hand. “I can handle a sibling.” Nevertheless, she replaced her belongings in her belt and pockets and made her way towards the door. “If I can help any more, do let me know.” It was said with a little irony, but Snow seemingly ignored it.

Emma traipsed back upstairs, passing the galley as she went. The scent of fresh meat was so alluring that it drew her inside. Oddly, only Red was there, ripping into a steak. “Hey Swan,” she greeted, swallowing her over-large mouthful.

“Red,” she acknowledged, searching for a second portion and finding it still sizzling in the pan. She slid it into a plate and sat herself down with a thump across from her Master Gunner. She contemplated the other woman a moment. One of the longest-serving crew members, beside Emma herself of course, Red was one of the most reliable people she knew (apart from all that lycanthropy business, of course). Tracking, sailing, shooting, screwing… whatever she needed, Red could provide.

“Can I ask a favour?” Emma said hesitantly.

“Always,” Red confirmed, through a hunk of steak.

Emma reached into the spacious pockets of her coat, bringing out the silken robe, which she had folded into one square of fabric. “Can you tell me who this belongs to?”

Red reached for it and pressed her nose to it, taking a good, long sniff. “It’s Belle’s. Nobody else has worn it, in the last few months anyway. Where’d you find it? She didn’t have anything like that on board.”

“Which you would know because…?” Emma teased her. To her surprise, Red flushed and changed the subject.

“Where’d you find it?” She repeated.

Emma grasped the fabric back into her own hands, placing it back in her coat pocket. “Rumplestiltskin’s house. She’s been back there recently, and it obviously wasn’t to talk _Hook_ out of killing her lover.”

“Yeah, well,” Red carried her plate over to the sink. “While you puzzle over that, I’m gonna go do…” she waved a hand vacantly. “Master Gunner things. Very important.”

“Sure,” Emma said vacantly, hands gesturing to nobody and trying to figure out what in the hell had happened in Tortuga while she had been taking the long route home.

 

The days flew by. It was Friday, then Saturday… then Tuesday and before Emma could even catch up to this rapid progression, she had only a day left to spend with her lover before the Princess would be lost to her forever.

She had given Regina a very pleasant wake-up call earlier and was in a relatively good mood that morning, despite their impending goodbye. She was about to enter the galley to find food for them to eat in bed (shameful she was not), when somebody grabbed her arm and, taking her by surprise, dragged her into the forecastle.

“The hell?” She exclaimed angrily, rounding on… five members of her crew. Her eyes first alighted on her father, who was looking guilty but had the irritating determined squint in his eye that she had come to associate with awkward personal talks. Standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest, was Red. She had been going around looking stormy for days, but even before that… she had been distant.

Standing next to the Master Gunner was her grandmother. Granny never took any prisoners, and this looked no different. To make an intimidating picture even scarier, she held a wooden ladle in her hand, perhaps to beat Emma with if she didn’t get her way. It wasn’t unprecedented. The penultimate culprit was Ella, looking very guilty indeed. 

And then finally there was Grumpy. Usually sullen, he appeared almost gleeful to Emma’s eyes. “What’s going on?” She asked, taken off guard and baffled. “Is this some sort of emergency?”

“Intervention,” Red corrected.

Emma turned around, putting her back to her crew members and her head in her hands. “An intervention?” She asked, voice muffled. “In case you’d forgotten, I’m your Captain, not your pet fool.”

“It’s about Regina,” Charming said, with his usual blunt tact.

The Captain sat down on a nearby barrel with a thump. “If there was anything you could have said to make this whole ordeal even _more_ embarrassing…”

Red stepped forward, separating herself from Granny, Grumpy, Charming and Ella. “This is bullshit!” She said fiercely. “How can you separate yourself from her? It’ll only make you miserable, if not for a lifetime, then a good few decades until she’s dead. And then you’ll go to her funeral and maybe look in her coffin – old and wrinkled and white-haired. And you’ll be just as pretty and youthful as the day you kissed her goodbye. And maybe you’ll think _gee, if only I hadn’t been so fucking terrified of love, I wouldn’t be bitter and alone._ ”

Emma reacted instinctually, her palm meeting Red’s cheek with a loud _crack_. Only Ella reacted with a short gasp, unused to the Captain’s quick, fiery bursts of temper. “You have no right –“ she began tremulously, only to be interrupted by a quick cough from the back of the room.

That space had been hidden in the dark shadows of the ship and now Snow stepped out of it, boasting none of the embarrassment or awkwardness the other five wore openly on their faces. “Regina is engaged to my father,” she said in a detached sort of way. “And I pity her for it. But I’ve made no secret of my distaste for that girl.”

Emma snorted. “If you mean that you resent her because your daddy wants her, but not you… then no you haven’t made any secret… at all.”

“My point being,” Snow cut across her, raising the volume of her tone. “That in spite of that, you’re putting her though something that is _incredibly_ cruel, even for you. And I know that you’ll never care about anyone more than yourself, but goddamnit Emma, for the first time in centuries you could be happy again!”

“I don’t need happiness!” Emma roared, reaching the end of her tether with the lot of them. “I’m _fine_ just the way I am and I don’t need _you_ and _Charming_ trying to play happy families and I don’t need the rest of you to question the way I treat captives! If you don’t like it, then when we make port at Port Wordsworth you can get the _fuck_ off my ship and never come back!”

Charming stepped forward, of the six of them, least intimidated by Emma’s outburst. “Emma, please –“

It was a miscalculation on his part. He found himself with a sword pointed directly at his throat. “One more step, _father_ ,” she added sardonically, through gritted teeth. “And I swear to the Gods, I _will_ run you through.”

Granny spoke up from right at the back. “Captain Swan, this is just a polite request for you to get your head out of your ass. No need to spill blood.”

Emma sheathed her sword with a clang and marched off in a random direction, one which would take her as far away as possible from those who had seen fit to interfere in her life. Then she hesitated and looked back towards the man she had threatened the life of not a minute previously. “I need your assistance,” she requested shortly, then began to walk once again, this time with a clear direction.

She could hear Charming’s heavy footfalls on the wooden floor behind her that let her know he was following her. Emma led them back past the galley and took a left turn, standing right outside the map room. Knocking once, she pushed the door open and entered.

The Princess was perched on the side, staring intently down at an aged scroll. Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. Hadn’t she left Regina in her bedchamber? The girl must’ve gotten bored. The Princess startled as they came in, and nearly slid off the surface. “Emma! What are you doing here?” She asked inquisitively, placing the scroll down on the central table and pecking her lover on the cheek.

Emma smiled half-heartedly at her, the good mood that she had been in when she had awoken having been totally dissipated by her interfering crew. “Can you go and read in my chambers please, Princess? I have to do something urgently.” Emma pleaded silently with her eyes for Regina to just do as she said, and to her utter relief, the brunette gathered her scroll up and smiled.

“Of course,” she acquiesced, slipping through the door and shutting it quietly behind her. Charming opened his mouth, possibly to say something cutting, but Emma shushed him and counted to thirty. She gently unlatched the door and pulled it open carefully, inch by inch. She peered out, looking up and down the corridor suspiciously.

Charming frowned. “You think she would eavesdrop on you?”

“No, I don’t,” Emma admitted, running a hand through her hair. “But I wanted her to.”

Now her father looked totally perplexed. “Why?”

Emma bit her lip, pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it. “She has faith. That I’ll change my mind. Do the right thing. I don’t…” she exhaled. “It’s bad enough that she loves me. Trusting me is an even worse mistake to make.”

She strode across the room and unbolted an iron cage that teetered precariously on a pile of books. The pigeon that lay prone aside could either be dead or sleeping. Emma poked it in the stomach and to her relief it cooed indignantly.

Enchanted pigeons lived very long lives and were a sensible purchase because all you had to do was whisper a name in their ears and they would fly to that person, taking a message tied to their foot. Of course, the cheaper the pigeon, the more likely they were to attack you. Emma had bought this one for eight silver coins, so the likelihood of it going rabid on Queen Cora of Springlands’ face was mercifully small.

“Write down a message for me, Charming,” Emma requested of her father. Charming had been educated and spoke both Nevic and Latin, while also being proficient at writing both. Belle had once written her letters for her, but she was no longer on board. Of course, she could have asked Regina, but the contents of the note were not what she wanted the Princess to hear.

Her father sat himself down at the table, testing out a quill on a scrap piece of parchment before taking a new length from the drawer. He nodded to Emma in readiness. “Address it however formally it needs to be,” the Captain ordered. “To Queen Cora of Springlands. I am pleased to inform you… blah blah blah, I have your daughter Princess Regina on board. We will arrive tomorrow at about...” she cocked her head to the side. “Dawn. Faithfully, in fealty, much love… whatever the protocol is. Captain Emma Swan.”

Charming finished with an artistic flick of his quill and rolled up the finished product in a tiny cylindrical shape. Emma took it and held it in her callused palms. “I’m not making a mistake,” she said, reassuring herself more than Charming.

“Do you love her?” Charming asked quietly. He attached more than a usual amount of importance to true love, having already found it himself. The question was not unexpected and yet Emma didn’t know quite how to respond.

“I wouldn’t be that stupid,” she told him eventually. And she was right. Emma was street-smart, selfish and a survivor; she wasn’t a pathetic love-stricken fool engaged in some sort of courtship. No, she was too smart for that. Right?

Charming looked up at her incredulously as he passed over her message to Queen Cora. “If I thought it was possible to be too smart to love, Emma,” he began. “You’d be my primary candidate.”

She said nothing more to him, merely attaching the scroll to the pigeon’s foot. “Queen Cora of Springlands,” she whispered to the bird, then let him fly out of the porthole and across the sun-baked sea.

Then she left her father behind and headed back towards her bedchamber, where Regina was waiting, remembering to grab some fruit and bread for brunch along the way.

 

When Emma ducked under the sheet that served as the entrance to her chambers, now, she was almost surprised to see Regina sitting cross-legged on the pillows and intently studying her map. Emma still couldn’t quite believe that the Princess wouldn’t run; she couldn’t believe that the faith Regina had in her extended past her own self-preservation. Guilt flowered up inside of her and Emma immediately suppressed it.

“Brunch,” Emma announced. “Sorry about the hold-up, my crew accosted me.”

Regina crawled towards the food on all-fours, snagging an apple and biting into it, smearing juice over her chin. “Doesn’t matter. I found something to occupy me.” She gestured towards the tightly furled scroll that lay on the pillow.

Emma pressed a brief apple-flavoured kiss to Regina’s lips, delving inside her mouth momentarily to find the sweet juice of the fruit. “What are the maps of?” She asked, withdrawing.

“Neverland,” Regina replied, picking daintily at a bread roll. “I was there for five years and never travelled outside of Port Lost. Now I never will.” She tried a smile. “It doesn’t matter. How would you like to spend our last hours?”

Instead of replying, Emma rolled off the bed and slipped through the door that led to her mini-treasury. She dug through the piles of disorganised loot until she came right to the bottom. There lay three different chests, all with very complex locking systems. She hesitated a moment, then picked the smallest up and held it in the palm of her hand.

She dodged her way back through the detritus of her search and sat back down next to Regina, who was looking inquisitively at her. “What’s that?” She asked.

Emma looked down at the box. “I found this on my journey to find Spring’s Sceptre. I’d been searching for months…”

 

_She climbs the side of the mountain, close to exhaustion and covered in shiny burns that send jolts of pain through her with every step. She is forced to stop every so often to drink from her water skin and reapply paste to the burns. The dragon corpse that now lies at the very foot of the mountain was the guardian here and he has really left his mark…_

 

“Guardian dragon?” Regina squeaked, listening to Emma’s tale in rapture. Emma shushed her and continued.

 

_It seems like an eternity later when she finally hauls herself into the dragon’s old cave. Dragons are like magpies; they like shiny things. But unlike magpies, they know how to pick and choose things of value. Emma steps over dissembled plate armour, an embossed silver shield and there is assorted jewellery scattered over the floor. But the most priceless of the objects under the dragon’s care lie right at the back of the cave._

_The back is small and far too cramped for the dragon, so what it contains must have been placed there by mankind. The furthest, tiniest corner of the cave is also the most lavishly decorated, with four different chests on pedestals._

_First Emma approaches the foremost platform, easing open the lid to the chest. She has to proceed cautiously, not knowing what sort of enchantments might have been placed to protect the contents. She closes her eyes and draws in a breath, trying to sense if there is anything unusual happening. But almost half a minute passes and she can’t feel herself sprouting tentacles or being impaled on poisoned arrows so she opens her eyes._

_Beneath her, lying in the chest, is a crown so glorious Emma almost passes out. It is not indecently large, but boast three large sapphires, all intertwined with gold and diamonds. It is a crown fit for a true ruler._

_But it is not what she is looking for and so Emma moves on. The second chest is much wider and thinner and the kind that Emma is intimately familiar with. She has some idea of what to expect with this, and though it’s not what she’s after, she cannot resist opening it anyway. It’s a sword; a ceremonial longsword with sapphires embedded in the hilt. Sensing a theme developing, Emma carefully shuts the lid of the chest and moves on to the penultimate platform._

_This is what she has been looking for and when she opens it she’s not disappointed. Spring’s Sceptre lies there in all its glory. Encrusted with sapphires and shimmering in its golden glory. She flips the lid shut once more and gathers it under one arm. Then, hesitating a moment, she takes the other three and flees the cave. The Sceptre she will return to King Xavier of Springlands but…_

“You took ancient artefacts from a cave guarded by a fierce dragon?” Regina raised one eyebrow at Emma.

Pulled out of her story-telling reverie, Emma nodded. “This was the last box,” she indicated the chest she still held in both hands, perched on the end of her knee. “Of course, I had to beef up the security a little, but…”

“A crown to rule over all the land,” Regina began slowly. “A sword to be wielded by legend’s hand. A sceptre to display to the fore and a dagger to cut away darkness in Nevermore.”

Needing no more pomp and ceremony, Emma slid her lock picks into the lock and went to work. “You’re going to _break in_?’ Regina demanded in an outraged tone. “What about the key?”

“I melted it down,” Emma shrugged. “It’s a lot easier to find a key than to fiddle about with lock picks. And even if someone did try to break in, they’d have no luck. I got a hedge witch to enchant mine so only they will work on the locks of the chests.”

Still, Regina regarded her with wide eyes. “What if you lost them?”

“I have a spare,” Emma quipped, just as the lock clicked. Shooting the Princess a shit-eating grin, Emma flipped open the lid to reveal the knife described in Regina’s poem. Keeping with the theme, there was a single sapphire embedded in the leather-bound hilt. The blade itself was short, only six inches. “You’ll need a whetting stone to sharpen it,” Emma told her quietly. “After all, this was forged nearly four hundred years ago.”

“Emma…” Regina trailed off, looking down at the blade. “This is Autumn’s blade, right? The crown was Winter’s, the sword was Summer’s and the sceptre was Spring’s. This dagger should go to Queen Maleficent, or Princess Aurora… or even Prince Thomas, if he ever comes out of hiding.”

“I’ve had it for the last nearly fifty years,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t want anybody else to have it… but you.” She lifted it out of the box with two fingers and held it up before Regina’s eyes. “You should never be without a weapon.”

“Are you?” Regina asked curiously. “Ever without a weapon, I mean.”

Emma shook her head. “Want me to show you?” When greeted with a confirming nod by Regina, the Captain pulled her sword out of her scabbard and laid it on the bed next to the Princess. The longsword was followed by two matching knives, all from her belt. Emma unbuckled the leather and let it drop to the floor.

Next, she drew her sleeve daggers from their holsters and dropped them by the other three blades. The shirt followed the belt to the floor and she stood topless in front of her lover. Emma reached a questing hand down her breeches to take two different knives from the holsters on her thighs. Then with a shimmy, she dropped the tight trousers to the floor.

“Seven?” Regina asked incredulously, but Emma shook a finger at her – she wasn’t done. Her fingers slid down into leather boots and then came back up, clutching a thin boot knife. Then the shoes came off and she was naked. But Emma still wasn’t finished. She took her left boot up from the floor and twisted the heel, revealing a secret compartment with an additional knife.

Regina looked at her in awe. “ _Nine_?” She whispered. But Emma grinned naughtily at her, reaching up into her tangled golden hair. She untied an unnoticeable string and brought down a tiny amulet to the Princess’s eyeline.

“Hemlock,” she told her, prising it open to show her the contents. “Put it in anybody’s food – instant death. Even your own… if you get to that point.”

“You weren’t lying,” Regina admitted. “You aren’t ever without some sort of weapon, are you?”

Emma blinked at her. “I was lying.” She slowly gestured at her now-naked form. “I have no more weapons.” She threw the locket very gently on top of the pile of blades. “You’ve disarmed me, Princess.”

Sliding forward to her feet, Regina pulled her head down to kiss her. “That’s right,” she murmured into her mouth. “I did.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh as the Princess tried to pull them back and roll them over so that that she was on top at the same time. The end result was a spaghetti tangle of limbs and sheets. “How about we try something new?”

Regina looked down at her, a not unusual mix of fear, excitement and anticipation in her eyes. “New?” She queried.

The Captain delved into the drawer beside her bed with a fierce grin. Holding up a roll of bandages just in Regina’s line of sight, she gave her a seductive wink. “New,” she confirmed.

 


	16. From Its Watery Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness once again! I had to take an impromptu one week hiatus as I was on holiday!  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“You never miss the water ‘till the well run dry.” –_ American Proverb

 

“But I’m not injured,” Regina complained, blissfully and refreshingly ignorant, as usual.

Emma leaned forward to brush a lock of hair behind her lover’s ear. Then with very little warning, she tied the bandage around Regina’s eyes, causing the Princess to squeak in surprise. “Emma!” She exclaimed. “What on earth?”

“Shh…” Emma ushered her and pressed her lips to her captive’s. Regina bucked and then calmed underneath her, a tiny shiver going through her body as Emma’s firm hands pushed her down on to the mattress.

Skating her lips down the side of her lover’s neck, the Captain nipped gently at her collarbone. Regina let out a long, high-pitched moan. “Oh my gods, Emma, your touch…” She trailed off, sounding like she couldn’t find the words for the sensations that she was feeling.

Emma had tried blindfolding only twice before. Once with Hook and once with a Lady from the Summerlands, whose ebony skin had glistened with sweat as Emma had drawn out her orgasm mercilessly. Both times it had heightened all the sensations so much that the ensuing climaxes had been very powerful indeed.

She began to suck hard on the skin of Regina collarbone, but was stopped suddenly by a tan hand winding itself into her blonde locks. “Don’t,” the Princess told her, regret filling her voice. “If… my wedding night. If he sees…”

Emma gently kissed her skin to tell her that she understood. If King Leopold saw the love bite Emma had been about to give Regina, the Princess would have a lot of explaining to do. And then she might have been beheaded for adultery. It stung though, to know that soon her lover’s body would be somebody else’s and there was nothing she could do to stop it. _Yes, there is_ … her inner voice reminded her. _You could change course right now and elope. Raise your son together._

No. Emma had made her decision. Her fate was cemented. This was the way it had to be.

There was no way Regina could have been following her thought process, but the hand the had tangled itself in her hair made its way down her face to her cheek, gently caressing the skin. It felt too real, too emotional, and so Emma continued the love-making she had begun in such high spirits.

Her busy, callused hands made short work of Regina’s linen shirt and pushed it to the sides of her body, pinning her arms. Now she was practically immobile, but the Captain found herself strangely turned on by it. She grabbed Autumn’s Dagger from where it lay on the bedspread and cut neatly and quickly through the Princess’s breast bindings. “You know, both the dagger and the sword were named. The sword was Caliburn. This dagger was called Carnwennan.”

Regina keened in reply, her hips bucking at the cold touch of the flat of Carnwennan to her sternum. “Gods, Emma!”

Dropping the sapphire blade back on the bed, Emma pushed the ruins of Regina’s bindings to the side. She lowered her mouth to taste the slightly paler skin of one delicious-looking breast. Encouraged by the Princess’s whines and moans, growing increasingly louder in volume, she nipped at the skin and bit down softly on her nipple. Then Emma pulled back, very carefully watching Regina’s expressions. The Captain had always been afraid of being too rough during sex with her captive, fearing that she would trigger another flashback.

But the only expression on Regina’s face was pleasure, and so Emma thought it safe to continue.

She grasped the brunette’s pussy very firmly in her hand rather suddenly and received a surprised shriek as a reward. Emma slipped her hand inside the Princess’s breeches and made firm, small circles around her clit with the pad of her thumb. Regina’s whines and groans grew in frequency and volume until her hips were jerking helplessly under Emma’s body. The Captain slid her forefinger up to the knuckle into Regina’s hot wet centre and was unsurprised to find it spasming in orgasm.

_One_ , she counted mentally.

Emma momentarily withdrew her assault to strip the girl until she was fully naked under the blonde’s own clothed body. The finger that she had sunk into the Princess’s body was joined by a second as the Captain began to slowly thrust into her tight channel. Regina’s walls pulsated around her fingers and Emma wondered if she dared to add a third. She wanted the Princess to remember this last night for the rest of her life, but only as long as Regina could walk tomorrow morning.

On the third thrust, Emma corkscrewed her fingers, eliciting a loud groan from the Princess. The sex noises still pissed her off, but she had grown to appreciate them, just as she had grown to appreciate Regina. They were annoying as hell, but kind of adorable because of it.

Emma moved her mouth up to Regina’s pulse point on her neck, an erogenous zone she had discovered reasonably early on in their sexual relationship. She sucked hard, making Regina tremble beneath her; but then she remembered what the girl had said about marking her skin and began to place butterfly kisses up to her ear instead.

It was a combination of actions that pushed Regina over the edge once more; Emma corkscrewed her fingers, brushed her thumb over the Princess’s clit and kissed a trigger point just behind her ear.

“Emma, Emma…” Regina chanted softly as she came once more. “Love you.”

_Two._

The Captain reached up to untie the blindfold. Then she left Regina to remove the bandage completely from her eyes as she undressed herself  Stripped of her breeches and shirt, Emma nestled herself into Regina’s warm body. “You remember..?” She began, croaking a little. She paused to clear her throat. “When you licked –“

“Yes,” Regina grinned, pressing a kiss to her clavicle.

Emma patted the mattress by the side of her head. “Get your knees up here, Princess.”

Regina eyed her in conflict but perhaps she had finally learned to follow the Captain’s orders because she crawled up Emma’s body to sandwich her blonde head between her own tan knees. Emma gripped the captive brunette’s hips with both hands and gently lowered them downwards until her pussy was mere inches from her lips and she could inhale the pure, rich aroma that was uniquely Regina.

Then, taken by a brief cheeky streak, she pressed the flat of her tongue directly to Regina’s clit. “Ah!” The Princess honest-to-Gods screamed above her and Emma winced at the loud, grating noise. No matter how gratifying it was to know that she still had it in her to elicit that sort of violent reaction, screaming was a sound she associated with death, not sex.

Nevertheless, she stiffened her tongue and began to circle the Princess’s bundle of nerves carefully, not quite touching but sometimes brushing close enough to make Regina wail in despair. “Please!” She cried from above.

Emma withdrew her tongue for a moment and smirked into her lover’s folds. “Please what?” She taunted.

“Touch me!” Regina cried, bucking her hips and pushing her nether lips back down onto Emma’s face.

“Where?” Emma enquired, seemingly innocently, slightly muffled.

The Princess shrieked in frustration. But once again it seemed her staunch upbringing was clashing hard with her life now. So Emma decided to give her a hand. “Your pussy?” She swept her tongue over Regina’s folds, gathering moisture on her tongue. “Your clit?” She tongued the little bud fiercely, for once enjoying Regina’s squeaks at every press down. “Or do you just want me to fuck you?” She asked, stiffening her tongue and thrusting it as deep inside Regina as she possibly could.

“Yes, _Gods_ , Emma… Fuck me!” Regina wailed, her walls clenching hard around her tongue. Oddly turned on by the Princess’s profanity and feeling the burn in her own centre, Emma decided to irrationally try something. She curled three fingers on her left hand tightly together and pushed them inside Regina, slowly at first. But the sheer arousal dripping from the Princess’s entrance made penetration positively easy and they slid in with almost no opposition.

Regina let out a low garble of something that could have been words and came hard. Fluids gushed from her channel, startling Emma as she instinctually tried to lap them up. But Regina had flopped onto the bed next to her, eyes closed and breathing so hard that Emma feared for her health. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself and in that moment the Captain felt immensely proud of herself. _Three_ , she announced in her mind.

“You squirted,” was all she actually said aloud, surprise ringing in her voice.

Regina flushed hard. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean – you –“

“It’s fine.” Emma emphasised, by licking her lips and as far down as she could reach on her chin, chasing the Princess’s flavour. “You taste _excellent_.” She grabbed the girl’s chin and engaged her in a wet, messy kiss which Regina returned only very lethargically, apparently too exhausted to even kiss her back.

After only a few seconds, Emma drew back, suddenly finding herself burdened with words she longed to say. “I don’t know how to love very well,” she said carefully, her hand drawing long, artistic lines up and down Regina’s back.

“Well _that’s_ just a lie,” Regina laughed. “I’ll be sore for days!”

Emma allowed herself a little chuckle. “No, Regina. That’s not what I’m saying.” She said it so quietly, and with such intensity that Emma felt Regina tense up in her arms and knew she was listening intently. “I wasn’t capable of love for a very long time,” she confessed. “I was too scared of it; I was too scared of the consequences that it would bring. So I ran away from it. I ran away from anybody who was capable of loving me. And if you stay here with me, I won’t be able to run away. I can’t run away from you.” A tear trickled out from beneath her eyelid and she brushed her mouth next to Regina’s hair, as if her next words could be lost in the soft strands forever. “I love you,” Emma whispered.

The tears began to trickle out at a faster rate than Emma could count and Regina turned over in her arms to look her in the eye. She opened her mouth to ask something, perhaps if Emma really meant it, but closed it again.

“I love you too,” the Princess murmured back. She placed a brief kiss on Emma’s lips, then kissed away the tears at both of her eyelids. “Please don’t cry. It makes me feel like a most unattractive prospect.”

Emma choked as she tried to laugh and cry at the same time. Regina regarded her with morose eyes. “But you haven’t changed your mind, have you? You’re still going to let them take me away.”

“I could never give you what you truly deserve,” Emma confessed in a whisper. “Leopold… he could give you the world. You’d be Queen. You could have your _own_ children. Riches, wealth.”

“I don’t mind giving up any of that,” Regina pleaded tearfully with her. “I just want you and Henry.”

Emma slowly skated her hand down all the tiny knobs of the Princess’s delicate spine. The callused pad of her thumb brushed roughly against tan skin, making Regina shudder beneath her. “I have lived for two hundred and seventy five years. Nearly four lifetimes. And I could live ten, twenty… even a hundred more… and yet never deserve you.”

Regina sat up in Emma’s arms, naked and unashamed, for perhaps the first time ever. She had a fierce look in her eye. “This will be the first and last time you ever choose my fate for me, Emma Swan. Choose wisely, because once we dock tomorrow… there will be no going back.”

Her eyelids flickered shut and Emma allowed herself to picture for a moment, what a life with Regina might look like. The pirate Captain, the Princess and their son… sailing the seven seas for evermore. Free of consequence and responsibility… free of death.

But then reality came crashing back in. “In ten years,” Emma said with increasing certainty. “When Leopold is dead and you have children and a Kingdom of loyal subjects who love you better than I ever could… that’s when you’ll thank me.”

“I hate you,” Regina said, with the same raw and bitter hatred as she had displayed the first time she had proclaimed such loathing for Emma. “You may love me, but your heart’s too ugly and dead to do right by me.” Her voice broke over the final words, and she arose from the bed. “Lace me into the dress you gave me. I want to look pretty…” Regina choked up. “For my husband-to-be.”

“Regina –“ Emma reached out to touch her shoulder, but the Princess shrugged her away.

“Don’t!” She bit out fiercely. “Don’t touch me.”

Emma held both hands up, going to the dresser where she had stowed Regina’s dress after she had been injured during the battle against the Nevic Navy. A sailor had pierced her ribs with a sword and during his attempt at saving her life, Bug had had to remove the dress. Later, it had made its way back to Emma, who had stashed it in the dresser until now.

She shook it out and inspected it critically. It looked a little worn around the edges, but apart from the hole where the sword had been impaled on Regina, it was in perfectly serviceable condition.

The Princess covered herself modestly as she stepped into the dress and allowed Emma to pull it up around her shoulders. The Captain treasured each inch of tan skin as it was covered up by the material. But the back of the dress hung open, so Emma began to lace it up with slow and sure hands, hating every moment of this prolonged goodbye.

“Where will you go?” Regina asked after a long period of silence.

Emma hesitated a moment, tugging the strings tighter together. “Somewhere hot. Back to the Summerlands, I suppose. Port Blake or Agano. Perhaps Eldora.”

“Eldora is inland,” Regina said in a puzzled tone. “Why would you want to leave the coast?”

Emma paused in her lacings. “It’s the capital city. I thought Henry might quite like to see it.”

“You’re still going back for him, then?” Regina asked faux-casually, head slightly bowed. Emma could tell that she had almost been expecting her to abandon her son once more to the mercy of Baelfire. But Emma knew now that she wasn’t smart. Not smart enough to stay away from love. Or maybe she was just tired of trying. Regardless, after Regina’s wedding to Leopold was over, she’d find Henry and be his mother, as much as a mother as she was capable of being. And she would support Charming and Snow in their endeavour to take over the monarchy of Neverland. And if they gave her a sibling… well, she would support them too.

“I am,” she said concisely. Because that was all Regina really needed to know.

Emma finished lacing the dress and let her warm palms rest on the Princess’s shoulders for just a moment until Regina turned around to look her in the eye. “You better take care of him, Swan,” she ordered, deadly serious. “He deserves the best, so you better _be_ the best.”

“I’ll try,” Emma nodded and was quite alarmed when Regina gripped her upper arms fiercely.

“No!” She exclaimed fiercely. “You _have_ to do better than that!”

Emma caressed her ex-lover’s face gently. “Regina,” she said softly. “I really will try.”

She didn’t even realise that she was crying again until the hot itch of a tear ran down her cheek, leaving a stain in its path. Regina’s eyes were welling up too and Emma pulled the Princess into her body, holding her as they both wept. Emma was unusually emotional, but the last time she had fallen in love it had ended the same way –a betrayal, two broken hearts and innumerate tears.

“You stay here tonight,” Emma said finally in a rough voice, pulling away from her captive.

“But where will you sleep?” Regina enquired, brushing stray tears away from her eyes.

Emma placed a final kiss on her forehead. “We always keep one cabin in the forecastle empty, just in case. I’ll sleep there.”

For a moment they stood there, foreheads resting together, breathing rhythmically. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._ Then Emma broke the moment and pulled away. But she took Regina’s hand in hers and laid it against her own chest, where her heart was beating rapidly. “It may be ugly and dead. But it loves you in its own way.”

Regina bent her head to press her lips softly against the patch of skin just above Emma’s heart. Then their lips met in one last, final, desperate kiss. Emma clutched Regina’s tangled ebony locks as the Princess wrapped her arms tightly around the pirate’s neck as if they could stay there, locked in embrace, forever.

 

“Captain!” The voice and its accompanying shake of the shoulders was a brusque, urgent awakening. “It’s nearly dawn! We’re about to dock!”

Emma jerked awake, already half out of the coverlets and pulling on her clothes as fast as lightning. “Wake the Princess,” she ordered, buckling her belt around her waist and pulling on her overcoat. Her hat was jammed at a jaunty angle on her head to finish off and she looked at Snow impatiently. “Well, go on!”

Knowing better than to disobey that particular tone, her Quartermaster hurried out of Emma’s temporary chambers and presumably towards the Captain’s Quarters to awaken Regina. Captain Swan was fairly certain the Princess would be awake, having likely not caught a wink of sleep all night. But she wasn’t willing to take the risk. After all, it would never do to have her bounty _sleeping_ when the Queen came to collect it.

Emma strode out of the forecastle after Snow, heading towards Grumpy at the wheel. “I’ll sail us into Port Wordsworth,” she commanded, taking charge and gripping the spokes with tense hands. “Oh and Grumpy?” She called after the dwarf as he made to leave the Quarterdeck. “Can you keep Snow below deck this morning? I would hate for King Leopold to have any awkward encounters with his illegitimate daughter.”

“Don’t worry about it, Captain,” Grumpy gave a short perfunctory salute, which told Emma he had not quite forgiven her for yesterday’s events. It wasn’t unprecedented for her to threaten the life of a crew member, but it was uncommon, which meant that it had probably unsettled them all. _Good_ , thought Emma viciously. When a pirate crew got too matey with their Captain, it usually led to mutiny… not because they disrespected the Captain but because they couldn’t follow orders.

The Captain was about to reach into her belt to grab her telescope when she realised she didn’t need to. Port Wordsworth wasn’t just a speck on the horizon; it was closer than she had thought. Too close. Was Emma really ready to say goodbye to the last two months? The mother of her child? The woman she loved?

_Yes_ , she told herself firmly. _Toughen up, Swan. Being alone is something you know how to do._

Except she wouldn’t even have to be alone. She had Charming, who was fairly useless as a father but a good boatswain and friend. She had Snow, a sister figure. She had Henry waiting for her somewhere, with Hook and Bae. And she had her ship and crew, with whom she could go anywhere and do anything.

But first she had to do this. As undesirable as it was. Because Emma had made her decision and she knew that Regina would respect it, because what else could she really do? At the end of the day, the only difference between love and trust was that the latter was given freely, which made the pain of betrayal sting sharper. But if to trust only herself was a lesson that Regina had to learn, then Emma was glad she had been given the opportunity to teach it. Because it was the most valuable thing she herself had ever learnt.

But as she began shouting orders to dock the ship in port, Emma wondered what teaching that lesson had cost her. Love, certainly. Family, perhaps. But then her gaze hardened and she held her head a little higher. Because when had Emma Swan ever needed either of those?

The anchor was thrown into the sea with a splash and Emma heard royal trumpets being played from the security of the dock. She slowly descended the steps of the Quarterdeck and offered her arm to Regina, who had been waiting quietly in the shadows of the ship deck for who knew how long. Perhaps all night.

“Your Highness,” Emma kissed the back of her hand, brushing her lips over Regina’s soft, tan skin for what would be the last time. But in contrast, it was the first time she had ever seriously addressed the Princess as formally as her station required.

“Captain Swan,” Regina curtsied shallowly and took her arm, silently allowing Emma to escort her over the gangplank and onto the dock.

As Emma’s feet made contact with land, she saw the royal entourage for the first time. The three most prominent figures stood in the foreground of it all. King Henry and Queen Cora, with interlocked forearms and welcoming smiles on their faces. Whether they were genuine or not, Emma couldn’t tell from the distance. The third figure, who stood slightly to the side, cut an imposing but rounded figure – King Leopold. To Emma he merely looked like a chubby, benevolent old man, but in reality she knew better. He was a rapist that had more or less disinherited his illegitimate daughter, who had then been known as Mary-Margaret Blanchard.

But the procession behind them was more impressive. There looked to be a whole section of musicians just to welcome the Princess home. Various men and women, standing behind the three royals, all dressed in finery and likely Dukes and Duchesses as well as their offspring. A Royal guard of course, a platoon of finely dressed soldiers in the deep green of Springlands livery on the left and the pure snow white of Winterlands on the right.

“Quite the welcoming committee,” Emma murmured to Regina under her breath.

Regina clutched her arm very tightly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

As they grew ever closer to the parade of royals, musicians and soldiers, it was easier for Emma to get a read on the three monarchs in the foreground. King Henry, Regina’s father, looked benign and happy to see his daughter. Emma could see from which parent the Princess had inherited her brown eyes and tan skin. But her luscious brunette locks were evidently a gift from her mother.

Queen Cora herself was also smiling, but it was in that cool, detached way that Emma had long come to associate with people in positions of power. The Captain didn’t like the way Regina’s mother looked at her, as though she was a possession rather than a human being.

Then finally there was King Leopold, a little to the right. If Queen Cora saw Regina as a possession, then Leopold looked upon her as though looking at a juicy steak. His eyes ran greedily up and down her form and Emma gritted her teeth. Not that Regina wasn’t gorgeous, but there was appreciation and there was lechery. King Leopold definitely fell into the latter camp.

Emma’s legs seemed to be carrying her forward quicker than ever before and in a blink of the eye the pair of them stood before the trio of monarchs. Emma stepped forward and bowed deeply. As she was not a citizen of either the Springlands or Winterlands (although a felon in the latter), she did not have to kneel to swear fealty. But Regina dropped to her knees beside her, in front of her father and kissed his hand.

“Your majesties,” Emma murmured. “Queen Cora, I have successfully completed the service you gave me.” She stood erect once more, meeting the Queen’s eyes steadily.

Cora smiled grimly at her. “And you shall have your compensation, Swan.” She gestured absently to a courier, who pulled forward a horse and cart. The cart was loaded with leather bags and Emma swallowed. A whole _cart_ full of gold coins. “Ethan will help you load it onto your… vessel. You also have temporary diplomatic immunity until sundown tonight, after which if your ship is still docked you and your crew will be arrested and executed for your various crimes… principally piracy.”

“A reasonable request,” Emma inclined her head. She couldn’t help glancing down at Regina, who was still on her knees in front of her father and trembling visibly. It was probably improper of her to say goodbye and so Emma kept her mouth shut. But she had evidently been too obvious in her longing to say something, _anything_ , to reassure her old lover because Cora stepped forward.

“I know that you’re a smart woman, Captain Swan,” the Queen hissed in her ear. “Whatever my daughter may have told you, _none_ of it was real. Regina is excellent at manipulation and she would have done _anything_ , Captain, _anything_ to escape.”

Emma drew back and lowered her head in acknowledgement. “My Queen. King Henry,” she turned to the King of Winterlands. “King Leopold.”

She stepped backward, but before she could tear away her eyes, Leopold came forward to offer his hands to Regina. The Princess took them, stood and then tried to withdraw her hands, but the King would not let her. He bestowed a greedy smile upon the Princess, then brought a pudgy hand up to touch her face. Emma watched in disgust as he caressed her lips, then trailed down by way of one breast to feel her hips. From the way Regina was wincing, he was clutching them hard enough to bruise.

“Nice child-bearing hips,” he roared and behind him his soldiers chuckled and jeered their approval. Emma swallowed and forced herself to turn around before she vomited. Rage, unlike anything she had felt for at least a hundred years, was coursing through her blood like fear. If she was forced to watch a second longer, she would either throw up or impale the King of Winterlands on her sword. Either way… Emma turned to leave.

Biting her lip, she forced herself not to look back as she walked away. The trundle of a cart full of gold coins followed her all the way back to the gangplank, but the sound only reminded her of pain and betrayal.

It was only when she had boarded _The Bloody Blade_ once again that she allowed herself to look back at the Royal entourage. The musicians had begun to disperse and a row of horse-drawn carriages were being towed off towards the distant palace. As Emma watched, she could just about make out Regina, still clad in Emma’s old dress, being helped into the foremost carriage by a seemingly chivalrous King Leopold. The Princess turned her head at the last minute before she was shut into darkness and Emma could have sworn, that from all the way down the pier, that they caught each other’s eye.

“Where do you want all this going then, pirate?” The courier asked in a tone that made no secret of his attitude towards her.

Emma turned back to face him with a fake, sweet smile. “Haul it aboard, my friend,” she ordered pleasantly. “Don’t you know that pirate hospitality is the best in the seven seas?”

The courier looked at her suspiciously, but grabbed the top sack from the cart and began to lug it up the gangplank. He passed Emma and once his back was turned, she slowly and soundlessly drew her knife from her belt. When the courier dumped the sack on deck and turned back towards her, Emma darted forward, faster than an arrow and buried the blade in his neck.

Scarlet blood spewed all over the deck as the man crumpled to the floor. He landed face first with a nasty crack, probably breaking his nose. Not that it would matter. The dead didn’t need their sense of smell. Emma knelt by the corpse and quickly began to strip it of its clothing. The dark green livery of the Springlands was embroidered with oak trees. This uniform had a white stripe around the collar, indicating that the wearer was in a position of servitude, not power.

Emma tugged free an evergreen-coloured waistcoat and unlaced a crisp white shirt. She laid them out on the deck along with a pair of pale pea green leggings, leaving the courier only in his loincloth. All the while, her crew had been watching the man’s vicious death and stripping with wide eyes, but only Snow came forward to challenge her.

“Not to question your actions, Captain, but…” she trailed off, looking a little grim at the large pool of blood that was collecting on the deck.

“You want to know what the hell I’m doing?” Emma asked viciously. She pulled her knife from the man’s neck and cleaned it on her own shirt, staining the cloth red. Then she gripped the man under both arms and towed him to the side of the ship. Her crew immediately cleared to make a path for her, some with a little fear in their eyes. An act of unprecedented violence like the one she had just displayed was unusual. Emma made a point of trying not to kill people outside of battle and for no good reason.

Captain Swan heaved and threw the dead man overboard, where he hit the surface of the ocean with a splash and sank. She watched him disappear below the waves for a second, then clambered up on to the side, clutching the rigging so she didn’t overbalance. The rage that had filled her heart when Leopold had touched the Princess with his fat, gluttonous hands still burned strong and true.

“A member of _our_ crew has been taken! As a result of my own actions!” Emma roared, feeling like a lion as the wind whipped her hair back and forth. “She was selfless, she was brave and she was true of heart! And _right now_ , she is being fondled by a lazy, gluttonous King that does not know the burn of labour, the salt of the sea or the justice of equals! And _I_ am going to find that fucking son-of-a-bitch, and I am going to kill him, so that I can redeem myself!” she declared fiercely, drawing her sword from her belt. “And maybe once I impale his head on a spike over the walls of Port Wordsworth, Evermore will finally realise that women deserve respect and fair treatment just as the same as any man! So who will fight alongside me? To win back a member of our crew whom I wronged so badly?”

“Me, Cp’n!”

“And I, Swan!”

The rest of the declarations were lost in a fury of cheers and the drawing of steel from scabbard. Emma looked over her faithful crew with wondering eyes and felt the fury that raged in her heart thirst for the blood of King Leopold of Winterlands.


	17. Do You Hear Its Sepulchral Tone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Mawwage. Mawwage is what bwings us together today.”_   _–_ William Goldman, The Princess Bride

 

The serving girl’s name was Philippa.

It wasn’t an unusual name by any means, Regina mused. In fact, her great-great-great-grandmother had been Queen Philippa I of Springlands. It was a family name. And Royal names were very fashionable choices for the peasants to name their babies, which was probably why her serving girl’s name was Philippa.

It was just one more reminder to Regina that she was home in the Spring Palace and not in her dirty little hovel in Port Lost, or in Emma’s chambers on board _The Bloody Blade._

Philippa the serving girl bustled around a little more, then stepped back as if to appreciate her work. “There, your Highness. It’s all finished.”

Feeling tiny tremors of fear and disgust running through her veins and under her skin, Regina slowly rose from her chair, trying not to disturb the slightest little aspect of her outfit. She turned to regard herself in the full-length looking glass.

A bride stared back.

She had Regina’s eyes, that was for sure, but other than that the ex-brothel cleaner and lover of a pirate couldn’t recognise herself. Her hair was in a beautifully crafted bun that let a few strands of hair float gracefully around her face, caressing her cheekbones. Her face had been softened by the application of powder, so she no longer looked so emaciated. Her body had been cloaked in layers and layers of ivory fabric, which padded out her chest and hips and swished down over her legs. The dress was unreasonably heavy, boasting a five foot train.

“Lovely,” Regina tried, complimenting Philippa’s work on her hair. She had been laced into the dress by three different women early that morning and two others had come in soon after to do her face. Now her appearance was perfected and it was down to her to do all that was required of her in the upcoming ceremony.

_Ceremony._ It seemed like such a harmless word, but really it was the gateway to hell. Regina’s own, personal hell. At noon, she would walk down the aisle and promise to devote her life, soul and body to a monster personified. Then all afternoon she would endure banquets and dance and music with a smile that hid all of her pain from the world. And then finally… she quaked a little in her satin shoes, Regina would have to _please_ the King that night.

“Thank you, Philippa,” Regina attempted a smile. “You are dismissed.”

As soon as the serving girl was gone from the room, the Princess’s knees buckled and she had to grab the back of the chair to stop herself from falling. She eased herself on to the surface and buried her face in her hands.

It was hard to keep from crying, but the Princess just about managed to keep it together. The serving girls had done such a good job of making her look pretty for her… _wedding_ , she didn’t want to cause them more trouble. She didn’t want them to come back. Regina just wanted time to be alone and mourn what could have been her life.

_Damn you, Emma Swan._ Regina curses in her head. _Damn you._

Pirates were supposed to be fearless, but maybe that was only when it came to battle because fearless Emma was not. If the Captain hadn’t been so damn terrified of commitment, Regina could have been in paradise. But instead, Emma had sentenced her to hell.

She swallowed. It was becoming harder and harder to fight back the tears so the Princess forced herself to concentrate on something else. She paced restlessly back and forth over her bedroom floor, before something occurred to her. Regina lifted the pillow from her bed and gazed down upon what she had hidden there.

All she had left of Emma. A rope of pearls. A pregnancy prevention charm. And a dagger, which she had spent most of the previous night sharpening alone with her thoughts.

Regina tied the charm around her neck, followed by the pearls. She fingered them softly, remembering how she had torn them off her neck when Emma had betrayed her by sending Henry away and how when Regina had forgiven her, the Captain had gratefully tied them back on. The charm reminded her of Tortuga, the bar fight she had accidently started and how Emma had protected her fiercely. Perhaps Emma wasn’t the Prince Charming she had dreamed of when she was younger, but she acted enough like it.

The Princess sat on the side of the bed and heaved up her skirt. She was wearing stocking and garters with her wedding dress, and after hesitating a moment, Regina picked up the knife. She contemplated the blade.

It would be so easy. So easy to give up. Plunge the knife into her breast and die right there on the spot. She wouldn’t have to endure the looming ceremony, Leopold’s weight on her body, her heart slowly breaking as the years went by and Emma never came for her. Instead, the Princess lifted her garter away from the skin and slide the knife blade down inside. She let the fabric snap back so the hilt protruded from the garter and then inhaling, let go of the whole thing. Mercifully, it held.

Regina let the skirts of her lacy, ivory wedding dress fall back down over her legs and walked back over to the looking glass. Externally, her appearance hadn’t changed at all. There wasn’t even a bulge where the dagger hilt rested against her thigh. But Regina looked in the glass and saw herself, not some strange girl in a white dress.

 

The wedding was at noon, which meant that Emma had hours to kill before she could execute her plan. She could have spent it going over the plan with Snow, Charming and Red one more time. She could have gone round the crew, giving motivational speeches. She could have checked to make sure each and every one of her weapons was in pristine condition.

Instead, Emma spent those last hours curled up on her bed in the foetal position, clutching Regina’s old breeches and linen shirt to her belly. It was pathetic. _She_ was pathetic.

Until Bae and Henry, she’d never had cause to miss anybody. Emma had never had any parents to mourn the absence of. She’d been to glad to leave the convent behind to miss it. She hadn’t even had any friends until Bae had let her come aboard Hook’s pirate ship.

When she had sent Bae away with Henry, it had left a hollow ache in her gut. But it had been easier then, because she could hate Bae for what he had done. Emma loathed him for causing Milah’s death. The bitter hatred in her belly had countered the ache in her heart until one day they were both gone entirely.

Henry was another matter. She had carried him for nine long months and had fallen in love with the curve of her belly and the way he would get a burst of energy just as she was about to fall asleep and kick her ribs. That first night, when Milah’s lifeblood still stained the deck and Hook was being taken care of by their then surgeon, she had curled up in her hammock and held her baby belly tightly, although there was nothing left inside her.

Now she was in the same position. Clutching her belly as her whole body heaved with unshed tears. Emma was doing what she did best and taking action, but she still felt so useless. She could have changed her mind a million times and sailed away with Regina on board. But it hadn’t been until it was too late that she realised how precious the Princess really was to her.

Lethargically, Emma stretched out her body like a cat. She unclenched her fists and flexed her knuckles, hearing them pop satisfactorily. Then suddenly bursting into action, she clenched her abdominal muscles and flipped herself up off the bedspread. A final check of her weaponry… Emma paused. She had given Spring’s Sceptre to King Xavier and Carnwennan, the dagger, to Regina, but the sword…

It took a fair bit of digging, but eventually Emma unearthed the padlocked box and inserted her lock picks. A minute later, it clicked and she flipped the lid open.

There it was. Caliburn the sword, encrusted with both sapphires and a little rust. Well, it _had_ been locked away in Emma’s treasury for nearly fifty years and gathering dust in a dragon’s cave for three hundred years before that. Nevertheless, it was still magnificent. Emma pulled her rum tankard from her belt and popped the cork with her teeth. She poured a little over the blade and began to wipe up and down the metal hard to remove the rust.

When she was satisfied with the rust removal, Emma put away the cloth and alcohol and rummaged through the messy contents of her desk to find a whetting stone. After a long hard search, she finally found it lying on her dresser, which was very odd indeed. The dresser was strictly for clean clothes and bandages.

Shrugging it off as an oddity, Emma began to run the whetting stone up and down the blade’s edge. She worked the edge, shrugging off her overcoat until it was fine and then tested it on the web of her thumb. With barely a touch, it opened a thin line of blood and Emma smiled down at the cut. _Perfect_.

She threw her usual sword down on the bed and replaced it with Caliburn. It was too loose in her normal scabbard, so Emma was forced to detach it from her belt and replace it with Caliburn’s custom designed scabbard. Flashy, yet elegant, the scabbard also had sapphires embedded all down the side and it sat heavier on Emma’s hip that her usual sheath.

Finally satisfied with the state of the weapons, Emma unbuckled her belt and shimmied off her breeches, pulling her linen shirt over the top of her head and dropped it to the floor. Emma wasn’t going to be a pirate today. She pulled the pale pea green leggings that had belonged to the courier which she had killed on. They were a little tight; evidently her thigh muscles were a lot beefier than his had been. The leggings were followed by the shirt and waistcoat, both of which were a little loose but it didn’t matter too much. The interesting part was trying to fit her belt so it would be hidden underneath the leggings, which were already tight. Eventually, she comprised by buckling the belt around her ribs rather than her waist, so it was hidden by the loose shirt and waistcoat.

It felt odd, but she could still move freely.

Done with her attire, Emma pushed aside the sheet which served as her door and clambered up the stairs and back on deck. Most of the crew were congregated there, looking down at a map of the Spring Palace and sharing information.

“Ahem!” Emma cleared her throat, left hand on her new sword hilt and her stance wide. “Shipmates!”

The murmuring and bustling stopped and they all turned to face her. She tried to meet the eyes of every one of them. Her officers. Her family. The new men and women she’d picked up in Tortuga. Even little baby Alexandra.

“Here,” Snow came up to her, a forest green cap dangling from her fingers. “You’ll need one of these to hide your hair.”

Emma jammed it on over her tied-up curls. “Alright?”

Snow gave her the once-over and smiled. “Keep your head down and you’ll be fine.”

 

_Where had the time gone?_ Were the Gods playing a cruel trick on her? Surely noon couldn’t have arrived that fast.

“Daddy?” Regina asked shyly, fidgeting as serving girls fussed to perfect her dress, hair and jewellery. “What’s the name of the God of the Sea?”

Nobody on board _The Bloody Blade_ had been particularly religious, other than Belle and Charming. Regina didn’t know what the Boatswain had worshipped but she had once walked in on Belle praying. She had been praying to the Goddess Athena for the wisdom to make good choices. Regina had watched quietly for a while, but couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been intruding.

As royalty, she was supposed to be very pious indeed. But her father had always let her ride horses rather than attend temples with him and after she had run away Regina had not felt the desire to find her sanctuary with the Gods. But now there was nothing left to her. No Henry. No Emma. No happiness or even independence. Her life was empty and hollow and perhaps one of the few choices remaining to her was worship.

“The Sea?” King Henry IV of Springland’s brow furrowed. “Poseidon. Why, child?”

Ignoring the serving girls’ protests as she knelt, Regina closed her eyes. _Dear Poseidon_ , she began hesitantly, having never prayed to a God before. _My name’s Regina and I’m… having some trouble. If you could help me out of this somehow… I can sacrifice something for you. Not a person, though. Maybe a pig, if I can find one? Do you like pig? Sorry, I’m diverting… if you can stop this wedding, I will worship you every day for the rest of my life._

“Regina?” Her father gently shook her shoulder. “It’s time, my child.”

She swallowed and opened her eyes. The double doors that led out into the garden pavilion were being opened by two soldiers, both matching her in the crisp white of Winterlands colours. The pavilion was beautiful at this time of the year, absolutely bursting with life. But instead of cheering Regina like it usually did, today it just depressed her.

“Those pearls are beautiful,” her father murmured as he began to walk her at a slow pace towards the double doors. “Wherever did you get them from?”

The Princess could not help the wide grin that spread across her face, making her entrance into the pavilion picture perfect as all the attendees of the wedding sighed at her beauty. But the smile fell off her face just as quickly. The high walls of the pavilion were studded with guards everywhere and though the portcullis was open, it was manned by a whole troop. If she had harboured any hope of being rescued before, it was all gone now.

At the other end of the aisle, her bridegroom awaited her. He was clad in the finest clothes gold could buy, mostly white which clashed with his red-flushed cheeks, but with green piping as a nod to the origins of his bride. Regina trembled slightly but her father gripped her arm comfortingly. She clutched onto him tight, knowing that soon she would be holding her husband-to-be’s arm instead.

The aisle grew shorter with every pace and before she knew it, Regina stood at the altar and her father was placing her hand in Leopold’s large, sweating palm. Her eyes darted upwards to the walls, in an almost fight-or-flight attitude. And though all the guards were watching the ceremony, only one had a bow on their shoulders.

Regina couldn’t help but smirk.

 

Emma fidgeted in her uncomfortable courier’s uniform. At least it meant that she could blend into the crowd, but having her belt buckled just under her breasts was proving much more of a discomfort than she had originally anticipated.

Still, when the double doors to the palace had been thrown open and Regina had floated out with a smile on her face, Emma had taken in an involuntary breath. She was _stunning_. Suddenly, Emma felt a pang in her lower belly and realised with shock that she wished she was in Leopold’s place. She wanted to marry Regina. Someday. She wanted to marry the Princess someday.

Blown to pieces by that revelation, it was by accident that Emma realised that Regina was shaking. Her pupils were slightly dilated the way they were when the Princess was very aroused… or terrified. Emma’s heart bled for her and the rage in her soul was complemented by determination to protect her lover.

It was only when the priest began to speak that Emma tore her mind away from her emotions and back to the plan. The concrete, efficient, workable plan. It was very dangerous and placed a huge target on Emma’s forehead, but if she was smart about it, and Emma planned to be _very_ smart about it, she’d get out just fine.

The plan revolved around one simple theory which had been tried and tested in Tortuga. To cause a large commotion and a distraction under which to hustle Regina away, it was necessary to knock somebody out in the most theatrical way imaginable.

“Do you both come here today from your own free will and consent?” The priest asked and Emma had to fight the urge to snicker when Leopold answered ‘yes’ for both of them. It was men like him that had made Emma’s life a living hell when she was younger and less of a legend. Men who believed they could do or say anything to whoever just because they had a dick. _Soon_ , Emma promised herself. _Soon._

The vows, as always, were too lengthy and Emma tuned out during Leopold’s blather of affection and commitment. It was all bullshit anyway. She knew the type. Power, respect, money or attraction got people laid. And Leopold had the first three. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t bother staying at home with a pretty young innocent when there were skilled women to be had.

Then came Regina’s own vows. Emma could tell she hated every word of them but she spoke them anyway. Fierce and resilient. A survivor. And for the first time, Emma could see how Regina could have been if Emma had chosen to turn around and keep the Princess by her side. Somebody who would not be broken easily. Somebody like Emma.

Of course the wedding continued on and the matching goblets were both drunk from. Then the words that Emma had been dreading were said by the priest. “So I declare you man and wife.”

At this point it was customary for the new husband to kiss the wife, but before he could even bend down, Emma had hopped up on the platform behind the priest and smashed an empty rum bottle over his head… hard.

There was a moment of absolute silence in the square. Time almost seemed to slow down as Emma’s crystal blue eyes met Regina’s.

Then chaos reigned.

 

_Make your move._ Regina kept thinking. But the ceremony continued. Had she been wrong? She had been so _sure_ that it had Snow up on that wall but perhaps it hadn’t. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Maybe that little bit of hope was the high before the fall.

She said her vows numbly, every moment aware that they were drawing closer to the point of no return. Once she said “I do”, there was no going back. She would be the Queen of Winterlands and then there would be no hope. No hope ever again.

 

The priest asked. She paused. But what else could she do?

“I do,” Regina uttered, her heart breaking in her chest. She had been wrong. About Emma. About everything. Love wasn’t enough to fix this. Nothing would ever be enough to fix this.

That was it. She was Queen Regina of Winterlands and technically her surname had changed from Mills to Leventhorp, though it was used so rarely that it hardly mattered. The real tragedy was that when she had dreamed of saying I do, it would be to a pair of bright blue eyes, full of love for her and no longer damaged beyond repair.

The Princess was dead. Long live the Queen.

The worst part of the ceremony was upon her. The kiss. Regina detached herself entirely from the situation and imagined a happy place. Rolling tides and a soft white beach. A blanket maybe, where the newly wedded Regina Swan would watch her wife frolic happily naked in the waves.

Somewhere, very far away… a bottle smashed. Regina was ripped away from paradise and back into the present. She hadn’t been kissed. But the priest was on the floor. And standing next to him, looking as ferociously beautiful as always, stood Emma, proudly holding a shattered bottle neck in her hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” Emma reached out for her and Regina found herself pulled into the Captain’s arms. Then she was being backed away from the alter and from a shell-shocked Leopold and suddenly the world was sideways and she hit the ground with a thump and there was _screaming…_

Emma was gone when Regina lifted her head. All around her people were running. A boot stepped on her beautiful ivory dress and with a loud _riiip_ the train was torn from her skirts. The Queen looked around wildly, looking for anything that made sense. What she saw was a familiar face, clad in an overlarge scarlet cloak and beckoning to her. “Red,” Regina breathed as she got to her feet unsteadily and tried to make her way through the rioting crowd.

But two more clear faces appeared in the blurred world – her mother and a guard.

“Regina!” Cora yelled to be heard over the chaos of people scrambling to get out of the pavilion. “This is madness! There are pirates everywhere! Let John here protect you.”

But Regina had had enough of being protected. She’d had enough of good intentions and well-meaning comments. She’d had enough of mother knows best and she’d had enough of trying to do right. So the Queen slid a hand up her skirts, gripped the hilt of Carnwennan which had been hidden in her garter all this time and then, as quickly as she could, stabbed John in the chest.

Her grip was all wrong and the dagger only went half-in, but John gurgled and flopped over all the same. “Regina!” Cora shrieked. “What in the Gods’ names –“

“Goodbye mother,” the new Queen told her, bowling her over as she hurried towards where Red was still beckoning urgently. She sprinted past bodies of guards, pirates and citizens alike, unable to feel any remorse due to the huge amounts of adrenaline flowing through her veins.

Much to Regina’s shock, Red placed a hand on her behind. But the intention behind the inappropriate action was revealed when the Master Gunner hoisted her onto her back and spread the cloak over both of them. “Wrap your legs around my hips!” Red shouted over the noise. Then, bent double with Regina’s weight on her back, Red began to sprint towards the still-open portcullis.

 

Emma hadn’t been in a battle this fast or furious since the Barricade of the Bluebottle. Guards were left, right and centre. At one point she had been in battle with the King himself, although his footwork was very sloppy and Emma had been about to trip him up when he had been ushered behind a whole wall of soldiers.

Charming was alongside her at least, as were all the remaining Dwarves somewhere. She lost her first knife in a soldier’s stomach, and her second knife in a musician’s neck – the guy had tried to beat her to death with his horn. Emma battled on with her sword, but the soldiers had the advantage with their shields. Too heavy for pirates to transport, shields were a valuable defence that Emma just didn’t have at her disposal.

She blocked a heavy overhead strike and ran a soldier through. But they were like vermin, seemingly innumerate and undefeatable. There was nobody she recognised around her anymore, just swords and shields and soldiers in green and white liveries. It was five on one and even Emma couldn’t hold them off. She sliced and hacked madly but she was disarmed and Caliburn clattered out of her hand and onto the floor. _Shit._

A soldier thrust his sword towards her belly and Emma dropped to the floor quickly to avoid it. But another soldier impaled his blade in her forearm so she was unable to get up. A particularly muscular soldier swung an axe at her neck and Emma closed her eyes. It wasn’t going to be the most dignified death in the world, perhaps, but any kind of death during battle was honourable.

There was a thunk of axe hitting flesh, a cry of agony and a thump as something heavy landed on her legs. Emma opened her eyes. Hook lay, panting shallowly and lying on her thighs, an axe in his side. Mulan and August stood over the pair of them, fighting off the soldiers and giving Emma a brief respite.

She regarded Hook with horror. “Killian!” She exclaimed. “What the hell!”

“If that’s what I get for saving your life,” he groaned, propping himself up on an elbow. “I won’t fucking bother next time.”

Emma grabbed Caliburn from where it lay in the dirt and yanked the sword pinning her to the ground out of her arm. It made her scream as a hot burst of pain exploded in her forearm and her whole arm throbbed. She offered Hook her uninjured right arm and he hauled himself up, the axe still embedded in his ribs like some odd ornament.

“Don’t,” Hook bit out as she reached for the handle. “I’ll bleed out.”

She panicked. He would die for sure if she didn’t take immediate action, only Emma wasn’t quite sure what she _could_ do for him. It would be almost impossible to escape from this pavilion with his injuries, so there was no chance of getting back to Bug, who might have been able to fix him.

Emma glanced yearningly at the portcullis. _Regina…_ She had risked everything to liberate the Princess – no, Queen – and didn’t regret it. Emma only regretted that she wouldn’t survive the day and that she had forced Regina to live a life without her.

“Emma,” somebody crouched down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up and saw Snow, with an empty quiver and drawn sword, as well as Charming standing just behind her. “Charming and the Dwarves will cover you while you get Hook out of here. The portcullis can only be closed from the inside so…” Snow hesitated. “I’ll stay behind.”

“What?” Emma exclaimed. “No! You can’t… you’ll be killed!”

Snow shook her head slowly. “My father won’t let me die on a soldier’s sword.”

The Captain closed her eyes, ashamed that she was going to allow her Quartermaster to throw herself on the mercy of the father she hated. But Snow was right, if anybody else stayed behind to close the portcullis, they’d be killed immediately.

“Okay,” Emma murmured sorrowfully. “Okay.” She gestured Grumpy over and together they managed to lift Hook to his feet. Together, the three of them stumbled towards the open portcullis. Mulan and Smee fought there, keeping the Winterlands and Springlands guards away from the exit while the two pirates Captains stumbled towards them.

Every step was a burning pain and Emma was beginning to feel dizzy from blood loss. But she could almost taste freedom as the three of them passed through the portcullis and onto the drawbridge. Then, to her shock, Hansel and Gretal ran up holding the reins of two thoroughbred horses.

She looked at Hook in outrage. “You planned this!”

He glanced up at her, grimacing in agony. “I didn’t plan the part where I nearly got hacked in half, don’t worry. But it’s always useful to have a getaway horse, isn’t it? What was your plan?”

Emma spluttered and tried to find a witty solution. It was true – she hadn’t even considered how they would get back to _The Bloody Blade_ after they had rescued Regina. _Stupid_ , she cursed herself. One of the most important rescues of her life and she hadn’t thought of an escape?

“Sometimes you need somebody to be your brains, Swan,” Hook commented as she heaved him onto a horse and swung herself neatly up behind him. “That Princess – she’d be good for you. I’m glad you managed to get your head out of your ass before it really was too late.”

Emma clicked her tongue and pressed her heels into the horse’s side. “Well, we’re not out of the woods just yet.”

The Captain wasn’t fantastic with horses. In fact she only tolerated them as an inferior method of transport to ships. Her only problem was, the horses she rode seemed to sense her dislike of them and were thus temperamental and difficult to handle. It was a small miracle that this bay mare was placid, because whenever they jolted, even a little bit, Hook would yell in pain.

“STOP!” Somebody yelled from behind them. “STOP IN THE NAME OF THE KING!”

Emma only had to exchange a look with Hook and they both clicked their tongues and urged their horses into a canter, then a gallop. They entered the town at a rate of knots, jumping over loose barrels.

But Hook’s pallor was becoming worse and worse whenever the Captain shot a glance at him. They were almost to the docks when he all of a sudden pulled up. Taken by surprise, Emma could only halt her horse ten feet ahead of him.

“I can’t go on,” he explained, breathing heavily and clutching his blood-drenched side. “Emma, there’s no way…”

She knew exactly what he was saying. There was no way he was going to get out of this life-or-death situation still breathing. She just didn’t want to accept it. They’d been in so many tight squeezes together before, and come out the other side just –

“I’ll be fine,” Hook lied straight to her face. “Go and get that happily ever after with your Princess and your son, Swan.”

She wanted to do the honourable thing. For a moment, she really did.

But Emma Swan was, at heart, a pirate.

She turned her horse and clicked her tongue, galloping off towards her ship and leaving her best friend behind to face the Winterlands guards. A lone tear dribbled down her cheek, but she brushed it away angrily.

Hook’s injury had been a mortal one. Realistically, there was no way she could have made a difference to his fate.

It was just a shame that her dirty coward’s heart would never allow her to even try.


	18. We Are a Call to All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dead bodies.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“It was good, and nothing good is truly lost. It stays part of a person, becomes part of their character. So part of you goes everywhere with me. And part of me is yours, forever."_ \- Rosamund Pilcher

 

“Swan,” a voice hissed from down a dark side-alley, and Emma halted her horse on the silent street. Her face was dirty with tears and she wiped them all away angrily, squinting into the darkness. Then from the darkness, figures began to emerge.

First was someone she had never wanted to see again, clutching the woman whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. It made her sick to the stomach, Rumple holding Regina close and caressing her dainty white throat with a blade. Emma immediately dismounted and drew her own knife, but Rumple raised an eyebrow, and indicated his own blade. Emma understood – one wrong move and Regina would be dead on the ground.

But Regina didn’t seem scared. She stood there, in the dark alleyway, still wearing her wedding dress which was now dirty and ripped. But she held Emma’s eyes fiercely with her own and did not shake or tremble in Rumple’s hold. Emma felt a curious mixture of pride and terror burst through her.

Behind him came Bae, with a hand on her son’s shoulder. Henry looked a little shaken up, but otherwise okay, Emma was glad to see. She had been wrestling with her conscience ever since they had left Tortuga, worried about him. She knew Bae would never deliberately let him come to harm, but Emma hated ignorance and ignorance to her son’s location had been the worst of all.

Then the worst – Belle with her own knife to Red’s throat. Emma saw the defeat in Red’s face and the war playing itself out in Belle’s eyes and understood. They both knew that Belle would never harm Red, but the threat of it had broken Red’s spirit. They had been closer than close on _The Bloody Blade_ , like sisters almost. Emma couldn’t help but hate Rumple just a little bit more for destroying that relationship.

“What do you want, Rumple?” Emma asked, her voice still a little funny from the tears she had been crying for Hook. She sheathed her dagger and walked forward with her hands in the air. She wasn’t going to try anything with Regina’s life on the line, but she’d be damned if she were backed into a corner like this.

Rumple snickered in that funny little way of his. “Peace,” he announced and Emma had a feeling he would have made a little flourish gesture had his hands not been full of Regina. “I want my family, Swan. And I want to live peaceably with them.”

Emma nodded, and looked down at the ground; the tears were once again trickling from her eyelids. She kept silent, not trusting herself to speak.

“You have to swear to… withhold your dearest Hook,” Rumple announced. “Stop him from all unwise attempts on my life and confiscate my dagger off of him. Then, I’ll let your twoo wuv and your werewolf free.”

Emma smiled, and looked up, letting Rumple’s sharp gaze fall on her tear-stained cheeks. “Done,” she agreed, holding out her hand.

Rumple’s eyes narrowed and he sighed, somewhat frustratedly, and let Regina go. The Princess – no, Queen now – stumbled forward and fell into Emma’s arms with an unladylike grunt. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Rumple complained.

“Yes,” Emma confirmed quietly.

Rumple leaned forward, until his breath of stale meat permeated Emma’s nostrils. “Prove it,” he snarled.

 

It was almost like the start of a bad joke – a magician, a Queen, a werewolf and a pirate carried a corpse swaddled in sheet through the streets in the middle of the night. Emma was on edge, feeling like they could be busted at any moment. Rumplestiltskin was the most wanted man in all of Neverland and Evermore; Red was a known werewolf and murderer, Emma herself was a felon and a pirate and Queen Regina was missing. The Captain wouldn’t be surprised if there were large search parties out looking for her now. But when they had reached the spot where Hook had died, it had been deserted. The searchers had obviously moved on.

Emma had been hesitant about allowing Regina to come with them, wanting to send her back to the _Blade_ with Belle, Bae and Henry, but Regina had insisted on coming. And who was she to deny the woman whose life she had almost irreparably ruined?

There was movement next to her and Emma started, placing her hand on Caliburn’s hilt and almost dropping her edge of Hook’s shroud in the process. “Both the _Blade_ and the _Roger_ are safe,” Belle whispered. Emma had ordered her to check over the ships to make sure that they were safe, and then wait for the four of them to come back with Hook’s body. “It looks like they searched the ships earlier, but Granny sent them off with her rolling pin and told them you had all gone out drinking.”

“Okay,” Emma whispered in acknowledgement. “Let’s move out.” She shuffled forward and together, the four of them began to ferry Hook’s corpse over the very open space of the dock towards the pier where the _Blade_ was anchored.

Halfway along the pier, they all broke into a run. It was unprecedented, but perhaps somebody had stumbled, perhaps the panic had got the better of them; but somebody had started to jog and caused the other three to follow suit. Emma didn’t think that it had been her, but she truly had no idea.

Hook jiggled grotesquely in his shroud and Emma had to look away. She had seen dead bodies a thousand times before but she knew that it was always different when it was somebody that you knew, that you had loved in your own way.

Charming stood at the gangplank of the _Blade_. Emma couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness and mumbled an order to help, when he grabbed her bicep. “Did you know?” He demanded loudly and Emma, used to silence and whispers while traversing the streets, winced.

“Know what?” She asked impatiently, backing up the gangplank and trying to make sure they didn’t all overbalance and go for an ill-timed swim.

Her father’s voice was choked. “She stayed behind. Sacrificed herself. For fuck’s sake, Emma!” His voice broke on the expletive. “She might be dead!”

“ _Hook_ is fucking dead, you imbecile!” Emma growled. “Snow is fine. Dearest Papa won’t let her die. Now get the _fuck_ out of the way.”

She didn’t bother looking to see if he’d followed orders as she heaved the body up on deck, followed by Red, Rumple and Regina. Hook’s body was dropped rather unceremoniously on to the deck and Emma fell to her knees beside him. She wound a hand through his messy black locks and kissed his forehead in a rare show of sentimentality before wrapping him properly in the shroud.

Emma raised an eyebrow at Rumple and he silently nodded to her. “Take him below,” Emma croaked to Red. “We’ll have the funeral in the morning.” She grabbed Regina’s hand and stumbled down the steps to her Quarters, tripping her way past the sheet that served as her door.

She fell on her bed as sobs began to wrack her body. They were silent but powerful, causing her whole frame to shake mercilessly. Emma noticed the tiniest things in exact detail. The contours of Regina’s sodden, ripped wedding dress as the Queen lay her lover’s head on her thigh. Her deep slow breaths. The reassuring patterns her lover drew on her upper arm as she patiently waited for Emma’s mourning to taper off...

And all of a sudden, the Captain made a decision.

It had started only a few hours previously when Emma had seen Regina floating down the aisle in her wedding dress like some sort of minor Goddess in all her perfection and beauty. It had grown when she had stepped out of the darkness, Rumple’s knife at her throat, but had looked fearlessly at Emma. And it was culminating now, in a fierce burst of passion and love.

“Wait here,” Emma told her Queen, voice thick with tears, both shed and unshed. She crossed the room and took a key from the ring on her belt. She unlocked the second drawer down of her desk and drew from it…

“Emma?” Regina’s voice was overly patient and concerned. “What’s that?”

The Captain turned around, displaying the small item that lay in the palm of her hand for all to see. She came back to stand before her lover who sat on the edge of the bed and then, ever so slowly, dropped down on to one knee.

“Emma…” The Queen trailed off. There were too many emotions in her name to begin to discern, and so the Captain didn’t bother. Instead, she held her ring between her thumb and index finger. “Regina…” she bit her lip. “Will you be _my_ wife?”

There was a moment of very dreadful silence where Regina merely looked down at Emma, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “No!” she exclaimed very suddenly, almost causing the Captain to drop the ring in her surprise. “Emma, I’m already married! And the Queen and…”

Emma’s head dropped and she ran a hand through blonde hair. Then turned to sit on the floor, her back facing towards Regina. All that and… _rejected. She doesn’t want you. What would a Princess want with a pirate?_

“And you left me behind,” Regina finished, her voice choked. “You had months, Emma, _months_ , to decide what you wanted. And I let you make that decision! I could have run at any time, once I had earned your trust! I could have even taken Henry with me, but I was _so stupid_ , because…” her voice trailed off and Emma had gone rigid, tensed against the next blow. “I trusted you!” Regina finally exclaimed and there it was, just as Emma knew it would be.

She’d broken the Princess’s heart and betrayed her trust. Deep down, she had _known_ that when she had rallied her crew and decided to save Regina from her wedding. But some stupid part of her had hoped that it wasn’t too late, that she could win her heart back. But at the end of the day, she was Emma Swan, Pirate Captain. The only way she won hearts was to cut them out of people’s chests.

“I can’t marry you, Emma,” Regina said softly, brokenly. “You… you _fucked up_.”

Regina never swore before. Not before Emma. And the fact that she was using that language now told Emma that she was deadly serious. There was no easy way back from this point for them. Emma had nearly landed Regina with forty years of marital abuse and not by accident, either.

The ring had been a stupid idea. But it had been Emma’s last gamble.

“You can stay,” Emma said roughly, into her knees where she had nestled her head. “You _should_ stay. Even if you can’t marry me, it’s better than going back to your husband.”

“Thank you,” Regina replied, and then the sheet fluttered in her doorway and Emma was alone once again.

 

The Springlands dungeons were in dire need of a good scrub and a lick of paint, Snow White thought critically as she leant back against the wall.

Her clothes didn’t offer much protection about the cold, dripping wetness of her cell. She’d been getting along just fine for the first 30 or so minutes, still running on an adrenaline high, but after she had crashed it had become very miserable, very quickly.

Snow recalled the look on Emma’s face when her step-mother had offered to stay behind and shut the portcullis. It was funny – only when Snow or Charming were in mortal danger did Emma act like family. Emma had looked at her like her step-daughter, but Snow guessed Captain Swan had won the internal struggle because Emma had nodded shortly and left, dragging a dying Hook. Snow had yelled the retreat after that. Charming had just passed the portcullis, probably thinking that his wife was right beside him, when Snow released the wheel and the gates to the pavilion keep had crashed down.

Her beautiful, valiant husband had turned back around and charged valiantly, but Snow had looked at him and shook her head. “Go!” She had mouthed to Charming. But of the course, the silly man had waited until the guards had clapped her in irons to disappear.

And then Snow had been brought down to this stinking, dripping cell to wait in anticipation for judgement to befall her. She knew her father would visit her, though he didn’t yet know her true identity. He would want to know who had been ballsy enough to crash his wedding and ‘abduct’ his bride-to-be. And Snow would tell him. She would tell him that it had been the Nevic Navy.

King Leopold was too proud a man to let such an attack and abduction slide. He would absolutely declare war on Neverland, which would perfectly slot into Snow, Charming and Emma’s plot to revolt and overthrow the Nevic monarchy.

Just as Snow was going over their revolt plan again in her head, there was a clicking sound and the door to her cell swung open. Two guards, magnificent in Winterlands white, marched into the now-crowded space, then separated and allowed the King to step inside. “Kneel for the King!” One of them ordered and Snow, feeling little need to disobey, fell to her knees before her father.

“Do you care to explain your involvement in all of this, Mary Margaret?” The King asked her in his deep booming tone. Mary Margaret looked up and met her father’s eyes with her own hazel eyes. He had recognised her on sight – which was hardly surprising considering she hadn’t aged since the day she had left the Winterlands behind.

“Father,” Snow began. “I no longer go by that name. My new name is Snow White.”

He looked down at her stonily and she suddenly reconsidered her position. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and Leopold was an immoral man. Perhaps he would have less problems than she had anticipated killing his own flesh and blood. But then he smiled, showing all of his yellowing teeth, and offered her a hand.

Snow got to her feet, still keeping her eyes downcast, as was only polite in the presence of a monarch. “Accompany my daughter to a free chamber and assure that she has all the assistance she requires to bathe and dress,” he ordered to the guards who stood stationary by the cell door. “ _Snow_ and I will be dining with Their Highnesses of Springlands in two hours.”

Then King Leopold turned his back on her and swept out of the cell, leaving Snow in the doubtfully capable hands of two dull-looking guards.

 

Emma wasn’t really sure what her next move was going to be.

All the forces of good and evil and every criminal of significance seemed to have gathered on board her vessel, and she disliked the overcrowding.

“Mother?” A little voice asked shyly from behind her as she strode down the corridor, and Emma paused, and then turned around to see Henry’s ten-year-old face looking innocently up at her. She instinctively smiled and dropped to one knee to embrace him, the gesture tearing at her heart as she remembered how Regina had rejected her in this position not a few hours earlier.

“Mother, there is a rich lady upstairs,” her son murmured into her hair and Emma stiffened. “She wants to talk to you.”

Emma pulled back, a hand still resting on the back of her son’s scalp. “What did she say her name was, kid?” She was surprised at how easily the endearment came to her tongue, but it slipped off as naturally as if she had been saying it all of her lfie.

Henry bit his little lip and looked worried. “She said her name was Queen Cora.”

She slowly closed her eyes in horror. _Damn._


	19. Pay Head the Squall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Major character death/injury/assorted hardships. THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark

_“Everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end."_ – Unknown

 

* * *

 

_“Mother, there is a rich lady upstairs,” her son murmured into her hair and Emma stiffened. “She wants to talk to you.”_

_Emma pulled back, a hand still resting on the back of her son’s scalp. “What did she say her name was, kid?” She was surprised at how easily the endearment came to her tongue, but it slipped off as naturally as if she had been saying it all of her life._

_Henry bit his little lip and looked worried. “She said her name was Queen Cora.”_

_She slowly closed her eyes in horror. Damn._

 

**A few hours earlier**

The nightmare started like this:

_She couldn’t breathe. The stuff ridges of her corset were laced so tightly to her body it was impossible to take a deep, slow breath. Her feet ached in dainty shoes a size too small. Her skirts were long and heavy, swishing around her ankles. And the crown on her head was ironically far too heavy._

_She was ascending some steps. Wooden and roughly hewn, the type that had been put together in a hurry and creaked on every other step. She crossed the weak stage tentatively, towards one large wooden block. The man she feared the most stood beside it, dressed all in black and running a whetting stone slowly along the blade…_

“Milady!” A voice said as it shook her shoulders relentlessly. “Milady, wake up!”

Snow groggily shook her head from side-to-side. “What’s going on?” She asked sleepily.

“Only three quarters of an hour until you have dinner with their majesties, milady!” The girl was panicking, flapping her arms about in a gesture of general stress.

“Huh,” Snow grunted and rolled over. She knew that she wasn’t going to be killed. That was good enough for her without attending some fancy dinner.

“Milady!” The serving girl squealed, maybe terrified that her job could be in danger because of Snow’s non-compliance.

Snow groaned and turned back over, yawning as she sleepily pulled the covers off her still-warm body. “Pass me my breeches, then.”

The serving girl swallowed nervously, but made no move to do as she had asked. “What?” Snow demanded after some minutes of waiting.

“His majesty sent you this… with his regards.” The girl held up a long, heavy maroon gown with an intricately designed bodice. It was eerily similar to the one in Snow’s nightmare.

“No way,” Snow refused. “They can take me as I am, or not at all.”

The maid looked almost apologetic as she stood her ground. “I’m sorry, milady, but under the King’s express orders…”

Snow held up a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I get it,” she told her, eyeing the gown with distaste. “Go on… lace me in.”

At least the material felt nice against her skin, Snow mused as she stepped into the thick fabric and pulled it up her legs and over her hips and chest.

“Milady, wait!” The girl exclaimed. In her hands, she was a holding a tiny, tight-looking corset produced from seemingly nowhere. “This, first.”

“You’re joking,” Snow demanded, indignant. “Tell me you’re joking!”

The serving girl, perhaps sympathetic by nature or just accustomed to fussy nobility, went relatively easy on her as she pulled tight the corset laces. But as every breath she took became a little more constricted, Snow began to panic.

This felt exactly like her nightmare had. A heavy dress. Tight corset. Bound in every possible way. Snow’s hand drifted up to the top of her head where she brushed over her scalp. At least she remained without a crown, Snow thought in gratification.

The corset tied and the dress laced firmly to her form, Snow was deemed to be reasonably presentable. Mercifully, etiquette demanded that Queen Cora be both taller and more bejewelled, so Snow wasn’t coerced into heeled shoes or duped into wearing any jewellery. At least being King Leopold’s disinherited daughter had one or two perks.

“Right this way, milady,” the maid pointed down the corridor as Snow stepped forward. But even in walking her gown constricted Snow and she could only take strides which were half of her usual length. The pair of them, bastard Princess and serving girl, went along three corridors and down four stairways before reaching a pair of guards, standing dutifully outside a double doorway.

“Snow White?” One enquired of her in a shallow, nasal tone.

When she nodded, he threw his side of the door open and gestured for her to enter. Snow looked behind her but the maid had disappeared so she bravely gathered her skirts and stepped into the room.

Her first impression of it was that it was quite church-like. The small windows were made from stained glass and candles were dotted on every surface. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings, but they were all in tiny pieces – a mosaic, Snow thought, the foreign word coming with difficulty. But the centre-piece of this grand, albeit dimly lit space was a long table of at least five feet. As the ruling monarchs of their respective countries, King Leopold I and King Henry IV were sat at either end. Queen Cora, bedazzling in emerald jewellery, sat on King Henry’s right. Snow could see the chair that had been lain out for her, right in the centre, on the opposite side to the Queen.

Struggling to recall the brief, rudimentary etiquette of her youth, Snow merely dipped a curtsy at all three of them before taking her seat. They were probably expecting her to be an ignorant savage, after all. Snow cast a quick glance at her plate; at least she knew how to use cutlery.

“Good evening, daughter,” King Leopold addressed her, making his intended message clear. Henry and Cora might know that she was illegitimate, but not that she had disinherited her father and any privilege that she was entitled to at eighteen.

“Father,” Snow smiled without showing her teeth. “Your majesties,” she inclined her head towards the other monarchs in respect.

“My daughter is a traveller,” Leopold informed the King and Queen, as a footman came forward to pour wine into her goblet. “It was quite the surprise to find her languishing in one of your jail cells.”

Cora’s laughter was tinkling and entirely false, like it had been well-trained. “Adventures are so fascinating,” she commented. “I had quite the little trip myself in midsummer. To a dreadful little island named Tortuga.”

Snow couldn’t help but flinch a little as she heard the word. Her gaze met the Queen’s and the other woman’s eyes narrowed. _She knows_ , Snow realised, her heart thundering like a galloping horse.

Her father laughed boomingly, he was unrestrained and carefree – exactly the opposite of Cora. “What in the Gods’ name were you doing there?” He asked, still chuckling.

“I had almost given up on finding my Regina through normal channels,” Cora recounted, eyes still fixed on Snow. “So I placed a pirate in my employ. A last gamble, you understand. Anyhow, she succeeded.” Cora shook her head, smiling without any real sentiment but irony. “I should have kept her on to guard the ignorant chit.”

“Nonsense,” Leopold slammed his hand down on the table, making the soup bowls quake and ripple. “The search parties will find my wife, don’t you worry.”

King Henry IV spoke for the first time, ladle hovering over his bowl. “Any word on the mastermind of the abduction?”

Snow raised her eyes from the pea green liquid of her own bowl. “Actually,” she commented, eyes glinting with mischief. “I did manage to glimpse under the hood of that courier which carried off the new Queen. I would swear in a court of law that it was Lord Dylan of West Beach.”

Cora looked puzzled, taken momentarily off guard by the unfamiliar name. But both Kings nodded, their expressions grim. “The Nevic Navy admiral,” Leopold growled, throwing his ladle into the bowl dramatically, but only succeeding in splattering his tunic with pea green soup.

“Neverland are responsible for abducting my daughter?” Cora asked softly, a dangerous glint in her eye.

_Whoops_ , Snow thought gleefully to herself; she might have started a war between three nations but perhaps in the ensuing chaos she and Charming could take the Nevic throne and Emma and Regina would get away clean.

But first she had to get through this damned dinner.

Her father, in his usual blunt and unapologetic manner, broke the silence. “With your daughter’s disappearance, _second_ disappearance, I see my chances of producing an heir are rapidly declining.”

King Henry began to mumble polite apologies, as Snow was starting to ascertain was his manner. His wife, obstinate as the King was not, kept her mouth closed and her flinty gaze on Leopold.

“So I’ve decided to make my dearest daughter Crown Princess and Heir Presumptive, at least until your daughter bears me a son.”

Dead silence rang out at King Leopold’s announcement. And then there was a tinkling of breaking glass as Queen Cora dropped her goblet on the stone floor. Henry gaped at Leopold, fish fork halfway to his mouth.

But all Snow felt was shock, the laces of the corset she resentfully wore becoming tighter and tighter around her chest.

Thankfully she was saved from having to make a response; as numb as she was, it was unlikely she would have said anything inoffensive to her father. She was saved by a messenger boy, timidly entering the room. “Yes, boy?” The King demanded, holding out a hand.

“For Queen Cora,” he said in barely more than a whisper, walking over to the other woman and depositing a ragged-looking piece of parchment in her palm.

The Queen, never losing her poise for a moment, gently unfolded the parchment and read it quickly. “Dearest Leopold,” she smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes. “I may have the solution to all of your problems.”

It was only when Emma emerged up onto the main deck that she realised just how severely she had underestimated Queen Cora of Springlands.

The Queen stood, in all her regal glory, in the centre of Emma’s deck like she didn’t have so much as a care in the world. Emma supposed that she didn’t really, considering the legions of men in Springlands colours who were rounding up the last of her crew and putting them all in manacles.

“Henry,” Emma spoke out of the corner of her mouth, pushing her son behind her back. “Go below deck and _stay there_ , do you understand?”

“But mother-“

She gave him a little push, hard enough to convince him that she wasn’t in any way joking. A moment later the warmth at her back disappeared and she exhaled in relief that her son was safe. Then she swallowed, let her fingers nervously wrap around the hilt of her sword and stepped out onto the main deck of The Bloody Blade.

Cora spied her immediately, and once again Emma was forced to re-evaluate the Queen of Springlands. She seemed somehow… sharper, than most others. “Captain Swan…” She beckoned to Emma. “Come closer.”

As loathe as she was to follow Regina’s abhorrent mother’s orders, Emma stepped closer and into the space that had cleared around Cora. And then saw the worst of it all. At Cora’s feet, Regina knelt, hands tied behind her back. They shimmered slightly purple.

Magic.

Emma’s eyes immediately darted up, jumping from presence to presence until she found the one she was looking for. Rumplestiltskin leant, oh-so-casually, against the mast. She _knew_ it was a mistake to let him aboard her vessel, but she had been distracted by the death of her best friend and not thinking straight.

Now she was paying the price of letting her guard down.

“Your majesty,” Emma dipped a very brief bow for Cora. She was at a very distinct disadvantage here, her crew all manacled and at least half a company of soldiers pointing their swords at her. Courtesy was probably the best weapon in her armoury. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Queen’s answering smile was more predatory than gracious. “No pleasure today, Swan. All business, I’m afraid.”

“No need to hold my men,” Emma tried on her most charming smile, her business smile. The one she wore right before she had the satisfaction of killing an opponent. “Your Majesty knows that I am your most loyal subject. We can negotiate in private.”

King Leopold of Winterlands, whom Emma had not noticed up until that point, stepped forward with his pudgy hand on his sword. “This is not a negotiation,” he growled and Emma could see an inch of steel slide away from the scabbard. _Let him try_ , Emma thought viciously. She’d like another shot to impale the King right through his heart.

“Let me handle this,” Cora held up a hand to stop Leopold in his track, which Emma knew was a bad move the moment she saw it happen. Leopold was not the type to let a woman just take care of things, and he drew his sword.

It was an impressive thing for sure, but Emma curled her own fist tighter around Caliburn’s hilt and knew that she had the superior weapon. Caliburn had once belonged to Summer, the eldest daughter of Zoso. It had been forged before the Split of Nevermore and was part of an ancient prophecy. Emma had won it from a dragon. Leopold’s bit of steel, however finely made, simply could not compare.

But then Leopold had fifty soldiers behind him. Emma had the wind in her hair.

“On your knees, chit,” he ordered. “And I might consider letting you go free once my Queen is back in my possession.”

It was barely even a choice as Emma drew Caliburn. She had never taken shit from anybody, not family, crew, strangers… and definitely not a rapist masquerading as a King.

“I would rather be _dead_ ,” she spat, levelling her blade at Leopold and not caring for a second that at least ten soldiers had stepped towards her, murder in their eyes. “Than let you take Regina for your own.”

Leopold opened his mouth, presumably to cut her down, but suddenly his entire being was encased in purple sparks, like the ones on Regina’s wrists, and he was frozen.

“Now, now, children,” Rumple stepped forward, carelessly brushing lint off of his dangerous fingers. “There is no use in killing one another over something neither of you may have.”

Emma opened her mouth to deny the words, but as she tried to part her lips, she found that she couldn’t. The bastard had frozen her, just as he had frozen Leopold.

“Rumple!” Cora protested as she looked at the frozen look of indignation on King Leopold’s face. “Regina is the Queen of Winterlands now, and Leopold’s wife. You cannot –“

Rumple giggled and Emma would have screwed up her nose in distaste if she had had the option. That giggle of his had always irked her. “I would remind you, dearie, that you signed a _contract_ , promising me our first-born child. Regina is _mine_.”

 Cora slowly shook her head from side to side, while a chunk of ice dropped through Emma’s stomach. _Our_ child? Regina was the child of Cora and _Rumplestiltskin_? She was Bae’s half-sister, and Henry’s aunt? If she were physically able, Emma would have buried her head in her arms and refused to come back up until everything made sense again.

“But – but Daddy…” Regina trailed off, her eyes swinging wildly from Cora to Rumple and back again. “Daddy’s not…?”

“Your father? Henry?” Cora spared a brief glace at the woman on the floor. It was paradoxical almost, how fiercely they were arguing over Regina, and yet how little attention they seemed to pay her. “No, Rumple is responsible for you, dear.”

“Do what you promised twenty two years ago,” Rumple almost sneered at Cora. “She is well past her eighteenth birthday. Hand her over.”

And with this, Emma realised the answer to the question that had been bothering her. Why hadn’t Rumple just taken Regina before, if Cora had promised him their first-born? Cora was the one who had to hand Regina over, to fulfil their bargin, and she should have done it on the Princess’s eighteenth birthday. That was why she had organised a marriage for Regina at seventeen. By running away, Regina had saved herself from that and inadvertently from Rumple… whatever he wanted with his daughter.

“No,” Cora refused heatedly. “She’s not yours, and she’s certainly not _Swan’s_.” At this she casts a disdainful glance at Emma. “She’s King Leopold’s _wife_ and above all else, she is _my_ daughter!”

Rumple’s hand lit up in flames and Emma was suddenly sure that everything was going to go wrong and Cora drew a _knife_ from somewhere – Regina screamed – Rumple yelled – and suddenly Emma was free and running forward…

“SHE’S MINE!” Cora screamed repeatedly somewhere in the background and Emma dropped to the ground and Leopold was shouting and yelling…

Regina gargled, blood spilling from her lips. “Emma…”

The Captain dropped to her knees and held her lover’s head in her hands as gently as she could. Cora’s knife was buried in her chest and she was struggling to breathe. Rage and shock burned through the pirate’s veins and she looked up fiercely at Rumple. “She won’t be _anybody’s_ if you don’t fucking do something!”

Rumple looked with shock at the dagger in Regina’s chest. “There is… something…” he says, looking as conflicted as she has ever seen the magician.

“She’s dying!” Emma’s voice broke on the last word and she was ashamed to feel a tear leak out of her eye and dribble all the way down her cheek. When she looked back up, Rumple had gone and she took his disappearance as confirmation that he wouldn’t do anything to save his and Cora’s daughter, Leopold’s wife, and Emma’s true love.

Emma pressed their foreheads together, tears coming strong and true from her eyes. She was surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Snow crying behind her. The last she had seen her step-mother, she had been trapped behind the gates of the Springland’s castle. But as her lover lay dying in her arms, the exact _why_ and _how_ did not even slightly trouble Emma.

There was a sudden scream from where her crew were being kept and Emma looked up in surprise, to see a sight she had never expected to see. Rumple standing by his son, his heart in his hands. “EMMA!” Bae screamed, his hand over his now empty chest. “STOP HIM. PLEASE.”

But Emma could barely process what the hell was going on and she was too far gone to care about Bae. Rumple dropped to his knees beside her and Regina, who was still breathing, and held up Henry’s father’s heart. “The heart of thing I love most,” he said, not shedding a tear, but looking as emotionally unhinged as Emma had ever known him to be in over two centuries. “I’m going to cast a curse.”

“Will it save her?” It was all Emma wanted to know. She was ashamed to admit that if Bae had to be sacrificed to save Regina, it was a choice she would make in a heartbeat.

“Yes,” Rumple waved his hand and a fire sprung up beside him. It charred the beautiful floorboards of the Bloody Blade, but Emma didn’t even notice. “I need a strand of hair from four evil souls to complete the spell,” Rumple told her, waving a hand to sever a lock of his own hair and throwing it on the fire.

Without hesitation, Emma took her knife from her own belt and cut a lock of her own blonde curls, giving that to Rumple. “Cora and Leopold?”

“They will do,” Rumple nodded, looking down at Regina, whose eyes were no longer open, but whose chest still moved. “Hurry!”

Emma had been too concerned with her lover to notice Cora and Leopold, but now when she was desperately searching for them, she found him standing over her on the stairs of Emma’s vessel, his sword sticking out of her chest. “Kinslayer!” He was yelling. “You murdered my wife!” In a fit of rage and furious that she wouldn’t be able to kill Cora herself, Emma drew Caliburn and thrusted it right through Leopold’s chest.

It slid through delightfully easily. Leopold’s words halted and he fell slowly. Emma grabbed a tuft of hair as he sank to the floor and yanked it right out of his head. Pulling a few strands from Cora as well, Emma hurried back to Rumple and handed over the hair.

Rumple threw it in the fire. Then he took up his son’s heart.

“PAPA!” Bae roared from across the deck. “DON’T-“

Staring fiercely down at Regina’s face, the only way that Emma knew that Rumple had completed the spell was when the yelling abruptly cut off. She chanced a glance upwards at the magician’s face. Green smoke was beginning to rise all around them, obfuscating Emma’s sight.

“What’s happening?” She croaked, voice thick with tears.

“We’re going…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “Somewhere new. Somewhere where she can be healed.”

Emma breathed in and green smoke filled her nostrils.

She pressed her forehead against Regina’s as the ground dropped away beneath them. Then everything went black and Captain Emma Swan was no more.


	20. And Turn Your Sail Towards Home!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark  
> AN: The end of the road! And although it’s been a bit of a tumultuous journey at times, I am still genuinely happy with how this fic has turned out. I am also well aware that nobody except me has read this chapter, so I have no idea if it’ll be as crappy as the HIMYM finale or if you guys will like it. But if you’d like to discuss it with me, my tumblr ask box is always open at: the-scabbard.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Rumplestiltskin’s cane seemed to reverberate louder on hospital floors than anywhere else. Perhaps because in spite of the background noise, hospitals always seemed to have a quiet, respectful hush. Even in the Maternity ward, a place of happiness and life, it was quiet today.

Perhaps it was just the effect that Rumple had on people.

Even though he had lost all of his powers when he had cursed Nevermore and travelled to a land without magic, he still retained the power to make people hush in fear and respect. Which was probably because his loss of magic had been compensated by his new wealth.

Rumple tapped his way down to the end of the ward, where new parents were watching his approach with trepidation, their baby sleeping happily in their arms.

“Mr Nolan,” Rumple nodded to the father, then to the mother. “Miss Blanchard.”

“Gold.” The man who had been known as Charming in what now felt like another life looked up at him warily. His well-callused fingers caressed his newborn’s bald scalp. “We haven’t even had a chance to name –“

“Well you better do it quickly, then dearies,” Rumple snarled, feeling impatience settle in his bones. “I haven’t got time to spare.”

Charming looked angry still, but it appeared that Snow still possessed a modicum of determination which Rumple had once respected her for. “David,” she brought his attention back to her and their new son. “Do you like James?”

“No,” Charming shook his head. “I don’t want my family having any connection to our son. I like…” he hesitated and Rumple restrained himself from beating the man over the head with his cane. “Alex.”

Rumple hobbled to the side of the bed. “Alex, it is,” he said impatiently. “Hand him over.”

Snow kissed the top of his head, then offered up her baby with admirable strength. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again. Smart, really. The longer goodbyes were eked out, the more they hurt.

He would know. He had one waiting for him when he got home.

 

Henry was too old for tears, he had decided soon after the curse was cast and he had realised that few others remembered Nevermore and the life they had once lived. But all of the steps that had been taken towards a real life had been undone. Finding his birth mother, his parents falling in love with one another, Emma saving his real mother from marrying a bad man… Henry had thought that they would be happy. Eventually.

Emma had told him to go below deck in those fateful moments before the curse had been cast.

And because he was her son, Regina’s son, Bae’s son… he had not. He wouldn’t, he _couldn’t_ sit below when he sensed that everything was about to go very wrong indeed. At least his instincts had been dead on.

But he had witnessed terrible things. Emma ready to die for Regina at the hands of all those soldiers. His mother on her knees at Cora’s feet. Cora stabbing Regina and dying at Leopold’s hands. Emma thrusting her sword right through the King. And Rumple ripping Henry’s father’s heart right from his chest and throwing it in a fire.

Henry had cried on the stairs as green smoke had enveloped them all.

“Henry?” Someone asked from behind him. “Are you okay?”

He was sitting on the stairs now. They were part of a house, not part of a ship, but they were where he had woken up after the curse. Whenever he missed his mothers, his father, his old life, he came to sit here and think. So he wouldn’t forget. After eight months and three weeks, he was hardly in danger of that. But time was frozen here too, like it had been on _The Bloody Blade_ , and Henry’s memories would fade.

“I’m fine,” he said, and took the mug of tea which Belle had offered him. “Just… thinking.”

The other woman, whose beauty had not abated during their transition through time and place, sat down on the step next to him. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Henry told her, and it was the truth. “We’ve gone over the plan more times than I can count.”

Belle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Planning to take a baby into an unknown world is very different from actually doing it, Henry.”

“I know,” Henry nodded. “But I’m not worried about that.”

“What are you worried about?” Belle enquired, obviously having picked up on the unsaid part of his sentence.

“Forgetting,” Henry admitted. “Not remembering my parents. I have this image of my moms, from before the curse was cast. Rumple was about to drop dad’s heart in that fire… and… Emma, she was holding mom. And she leaned down and their foreheads touched… just before the smoke covered them.”

Belle’s hand migrated to his other shoulder and she pulled him into her side. Rumple’s girlfriend had become a maternal figure to him in the last few months, as they all adjusted to living in a completely different world, the only people who remembered Nevermore.

“Hold onto that image,” Belle told him, a little hoarser than usual. “And you won’t ever forget your parents.”

There came a jangling of a key in the lock. Belle gave him one last squeeze, then got up from the step and opened the door to reveal Rumple, struggling to open the door with a baby in one arm. Belle cooed, her face noticeably softening as she took the baby in her arms.

“His name’s Alex,” Rumple sighed like he had had a long day, and shut the door behind him. His eyes locked on Henry, still sitting quietly on the stairs. “Are you packed, Henry?”

“Almost,” the ten-year-old replied to his grandfather. “I left space for those photographs you promised.”

Rumple tossed him a small rucksack, brand new with the label still affixed to one of the straps. “They’re both in there, as well as the cash we talked about, a phone with all the useful numbers I could think of. Your bus and aeroplane tickets are in the front pocket.”

Henry slung the rucksack over his shoulder and gave Rumple a brief hug. “Thanks, Grandpa,” he smiled up at Rumple and bounded back up the stairs.

 

Dinner was a solemn affair that night, despite the new presence who was only in the next room. Henry’s bags lay by the door, ready for him to carry to the bus stop.

“We’ll see you again, Henry,” Belle said softly after a while, breaking the silence. “You’ll be back in Storybrooke before you even realise.”

“You won’t recognise me,” Henry smiled through a mouthful of spaghetti Bolognese.

Belle laughed her dainty snicker, wetting her thumb and wiping the beef sauce off Henry’s upper lip. “I hope you’ll be a lot more civilised then.”

Rumple watched the scene, more domesticated than he had ever had the right to expect. When he had cast the curse, he had seen what had to be. He had been granted one last prophetic vision before he had been stripped of all his powers. Rumple had foreseen Snow and Charming’s baby, had known that Henry would have the most important part to play in taking the baby away. The baby was the saviour, the child that would break Rumple’s curse.

 

**28 Years Later**

The wood creaked beneath Emma Swan’s feet as she stepped out onto the deck and lifted her face up to the sun for what felt like the first time since October. It was so damned dark in the winter months, but when she had drowsily rolled up the blind that morning, sunshine had glared happily through.

How cold could the water be? In sunshine like that?

Now, as she stripped off her shirt and underwear, she almost had a change of heart. The wind bit fiercely at her naked skin and gooseflesh broke out all over her arms and legs. Nevertheless, Emma stepped up to the side of the ship, took a deep breath and tensed her stomach muscles. Then, pushing off with her feet, she propelled herself into the air and plunged down towards the water.

“Shit,” Emma gasped, breaking the surface. The sun was misleading; the water still felt like it was February in Maine. Ice cold.

There was nobody around to hear her profanity. The fisherman, hardy folk with skin as tough as nails, had probably gone out about an hour earlier. The frequenters of the fish market wouldn’t arrive for at least another three. It felt like she was all alone in the ocean as she kicked out, legs tensing as she propelled herself forward.

She had been swimming in the mornings for as long as she could remember, definitely since she’d had her beautiful ship. But even before that, a past that was murky to say the least, she had a feeling that she’d loved the fresh cold saltwater.

Her only jewellery was the ring around her neck, so Emma’s method of telling the time was only through the sun and the general populous of the dock. When the rays of sunshine began to glare across the water, and the first fishing boat came back in, she knew it was time to get out before she gave the fish buyers an inadvertent show.

“Good morning, dearie,” somebody said from over to her left and Emma grabbed her knife where she had left it on the side before spinning around to face the intruder.

Mr Gold. The monetary owner of the town and husband of the Mayor. Notorious businessman. Emma had never liked him, but she couldn’t quite remember why.

“Gold,” she greeted shortly, setting the knife back down again and pulling the shirt she’d stripped off over her naked body. “If you’re here to complain, office hours don’t start until eight.”

“No complaints, dearie,” he informed her, eyes still fixed on her own as Emma pulled her jeans up her thighs and over her hips.

“Then why _are_ you here?” She asked, jamming her Sheriff’s badge back into the waistband of the denim. “If Leroy is refusing to pay his rent again, you gotta know by now there’s sweet fuck all I can do about it –“

“Again,” Mr Gold told her with a slight hint of impatience. “Not why I’m here.”

Emma finally got the hint and stopped moving, sitting herself down on a wooden box that contained her quarterly stock of dried food. There was no electricity on a ship, which was plenty alright except for the slight problem of fresh food. But she wasn’t a breakfast eater and lunch was at Granny’s, so the food thing wasn’t really an issue most of the time.

“My boy’s coming home,” Mr Gold eventually said. “We’re having a little welcome back dinner at Granny’s and we…” his face screwed up in a pained sort of way. “We would appreciate it if you, David and Mary-Margaret would attend.”

“Your boy?” Emma screwed her face up as she demanded things of her memory. “Henry, right? God, he hasn’t been around in years…”

Gold’s cane drummed a little on the ground. Emma winced at the sound. Being the town Sheriff and what passed for the law, she had come to be familiar with that sound. And the impatience it signified. “Quite, Sheriff,” the older man said, not without some bite. “Will your family be attending?”

“Sure,” Emma shrugged easily, pulling her damp hair into a ponytail and standing up to pull on her leather jacket. “Mary-Margaret might even find it in her heart to bake a cake.”

 

The Sheriff of Storybrooke strolled down the main street towards the station, her hands in her pockets and in no particular rush. With a town as quiet as this one and a Mayor so benevolent, a little tardiness wasn’t likely to get her in too much trouble. Besides, she liked spending a little time in the streets. For reasons unknown, she’d always detested the urban lifestyle and had lived on her ship for… well, for years now. But she found that she didn’t mind at all strolling around the town, still in the fresh air but getting a feel for the _life_ of Storybrooke.

And it was a buzzing life. The produce market was already open and the luckier fishermen were dumping baskets of recently-living fish on stalls and on the floor in front. Familiar faces could be seen ducking in and out of Grannies, which was Emma’s first stop before checking in at the station.

But then her keenly honed senses told her that something was… off.

She paused in the middle of the hustle and bustle, and observed. Yes, everybody was going about their business in their normal fashion, but every so often somebody would glance in Emma’s direction, but above her head. Far above it. Right up to…

The clock tower. Hardly worth glancing at, considering that it had never worked in living memory.

And yet… Emma found herself succumbing to her own weak curiosities.

She turned around, craning her neck to get a good look at the clock face. And proceeded to get the shock of her life. The clock tower had been stuck at 8:15 for as long as anyone, including Emma, could remember, and now it was most definitely at 7:54.

“Odd, isn’t it?”

Emma felt the presence of her friend and sister-in-law at her side as they both gazed upwards. Mary-Margaret Nolan was not a woman whom Emma would have befriended, had her brother David remained unmarried. But a series of tragedies had struck the young couple years ago and they made it impossible to see Mary-Margaret as anything other than the truly admirable person she was.

“Very odd,” Emma agreed, turning to her sister-in-law with a smile. “Can _you_ remember the last time it was working?”

“No,” Mary-Margaret shook her head. “It’s strange, but I’ve always had the idea that it was just… built that way.”

Emma quirked her eyebrow, but chose not to dispute the point. Mary-Margaret’s strength as a person didn’t detract from the occasional irritation Emma felt with her fanciful ways, but for peace’s sake she always tried to avoid conflict with the second and only other member of her family.

“Oh by the way,” the Sheriff recalled her early morning visitor. “Mr Gold came to see me. He’s throwing a welcome home party for his son and wants us to go.”

Mary-Margaret’s face tightened and Emma placed a hand on her arm. Gold was a sore point for her friend, ever since they’d given up their baby to him. She always hated to remind her brother and his wife of what they’d lost, especially since they hadn’t been able to conceive since.

“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to…” she offered weakly.

“No,” Mary-Margaret smiled forcefully. “It was a long time ago. Things were different. Besides, it’ll be interesting to see how Henry’s grown!” Her brow furrowed. “I can’t remember how many years ago it was that he left.”

“Me neither,” Emma admitted as she held open the door to Granny’s for the brunette. “I suppose we’ll get a nasty shock. He must be through school by now.”

 

She sat on her desk, scrap paper balled up in her fist as Emma carefully aimed at the bin. With a flick of her wrist, it sailed over the rim to join the rest of the waste.

“Town council money going to a good cause, I see,” an amused voice came from the door and Emma looked over, hopping off the desk on reflex. The man who had spoken was completely unfamiliar to her, yet spoke in a teasing way, like he knew her. Knew her well.

He was dark-haired and soft-eyed, with a little stubble that made his face look much more masculine than it would have otherwise done. He was cute and even sexy, this stranger, but despite Emma’s very long dry spell and lack of romantic prospects, she felt about the same amount of instantaneous attraction to him as she did when she looked at Leroy, the town drunk or even her own brother David.

“Henry,” he held out his hand when he seemed to realise that she did not recognise him. “I’m Gold’s… son.” He hesitated over the last word, like it was a lie or a truth he had some difficulty with.

Emma breathed out, looking the man up and down. She knew that it had been a while, a long time in fact since Henry Gold had left town. But the man that stood in front of her was easily thirty, maybe older. It made her wonder about her own age briefly, which oddly enough gave her a throbbing sensation in her temples before she stopped thinking about it.

“Jesus,” she breathed out, eyes finally resting on his own again. “I can remember you as a kid. How old are you now?”

“That would be telling,” he laughed, shaking her hand.

Emma laughed too, more out of discomfort than humour. “So what brings you back to small town life? Family? Your mom’s still the Mayor, your dad’s still terrorising innocent homeowners. Not much has changed in…” She paused, trying to calculate how many years it had been since she had seen Gold’s son last and quickly gave up. Again.

“Yeah,” Henry shrugged. “Something like that.”

“So…” Emma trailed off, slightly mystified about why the man had come to see her. He was barely a memory, a small boy who had been around town when he was a kid, but had been sent away by his parents at some indeterminable point in time. Boarding school, she thought the official story had been. So why had she stuck in his mind as somebody to come back and visit? Perhaps he was just making visits around town, as it were? “I bet your mom’s pleased to have you back.”

“I haven’t been to see her yet,” Henry shrugged, taking a seat at David’s desk. She had sent him home early, having nothing to do herself, let alone enough work for a deputy.

Odder and odder, Emma thought to herself. Of course Belle was a busy woman, she had a town to run after all, but surely the Mayor could’ve made ten minutes in her day to see her own son. “So…” Emma trailed off after a while, unsure of what to say. “Can I do anything for you?”

Henry looked at her, in an uncomfortable sort of way. Like he was searching for something in her. But after a moment, his eyes hardened and he got up from David’s desk. “No, thank you Sheriff,” he told her pleasantly enough, but Emma knew he was in some way disappointed. Whatever he had been looking for, he hadn’t found it. “I’ll see you at the party?”

“You bet,” she nodded at him, scrunching up another piece of paper in her hand as he left.

 

Predictably, Mary-Margaret stopped just short of the door to Granny’s.

She held the cake she had made in her trembling arms, so Emma deftly rescued it whilst David put a comforting arm around her shivering shoulders. “We don’t have to go in,” he told her, in as soft a voice as Emma had ever heard him use. “Nobody will miss us.”

It was a sentiment that wasn’t entirely true, and they all knew it. From the looks of it, most of the town had turned up to Granny’s to welcome home the prodigal son. As the Sheriff, and David her deputy, they both had a neighbourly duty to attend such events. But neither wanted to compromise on Mary-Margaret’s well-being.

“I’m sorry,” David’s wife shook her arms out and took a deep breath. “It’s just… hard for me to come to terms with the fact that he has his son back while I… we’ve lost _our_ son forever.”

David’s hand rubbed up and down her arm as he whispered soothing words. Emma was shivering herself, having not dressed herself well enough to spend more than a few minutes outside in the cold.

“No, it’s fine,” her sister-in-law finally stated, hugging herself together with her hands and inadvertently brushing away David’s. “Let’s go in. We…” she hesitated. “We don’t have to stay too long though, right?”

“Right,” David nodded fervently, making eyes at Emma as though she would do anything but agree, even though she lived entirely separately to them and it made no difference to her how long they stayed.

Emma pushed the door open and slipped to the side, placing the cake on a nearby table and watching as the Storybrooke citizens present greeted David and Mary-Margaret. As Deputy Sheriff and school teacher respectively, the couple were well-known and well-loved by all. Emma, although David’s superior, tended to deal with the more serious crimes; murder, rape, theft and the suchlike. Her brother was the town hero that rescued cats from trees and walked little old ladies across the roads.

Emma spotted Henry almost immediately. He was the centre of attention, and clearly not too comfortable about it. All of a sudden, he broke eye contact with his mother, the Mayor, and looked straight at her. And smiled widely.

She smiled back, a little uncertain. All day she had been wracking her brains, trying to recall if she had done him a favour or helped him out when he was younger, or done anything that would have given him a lasting impression of her. Henry’s eyes shifted past her face to a spot just over her shoulder and smiled anew, just as she heard a deep “hello”.

Emma turned around, to see an entirely new face. For the second time today, she was flummoxed that a stranger was in town. After all, the last time somebody had moved here was… in fact, Emma couldn’t even _remember_ the last time somebody had moved here.

“Sheriff Emma Swan,” she put her hand out to introduce herself. “Are you a friend of Henry’s?”

The stranger chuckled in a low sort of voice. He looked a little young to be Henry’s peer; perhaps a decade younger than Gold’s son. “He’s actually my nephew, if you can believe it? I’m Alex, by the way. Alex French.”

“Mayor French’s brother?” Emma guessed, releasing Alex’s hand. “That’s a bit of an age gap.”

Alex took a gulp from his beer mug. “Yeah,” he laughed that low chuckle once more. “You wouldn’t believe it, would you?”

Emma looked at Alex’s face, then over at Belle’s and back again. She internally snorted. She herself looked more like a sister of Alex than Belle did. They bore no resemblance to one another whatsoever.

“No,” she agreed with a smile. “So how long are you in town for, Alex?”

“I don’t know,” said Belle’s brother. “I have something to take care of before I leave, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

“Anything I can help with?” Emma raised an eyebrow, sipping at her drink.

Alex looked at her speculatively. “Maybe,” he hedged. “Can I have your card?”

This time, Emma was the one chuckling. “Sorry kid,” she replied. “I’m not a professional.” She grabbed a napkin and scrawled down a series of numbers. “Have this instead.”

He took it and stuffed it in his pocket. “Well it was nice to meet you, Emma Swan,” he grinned, and then turned around and left the establishment, letting some cold air in as he escaped through the door.

“Who was that?” Mary-Margaret asked, coming to stand next to her as they watch the head of bright blonde hair disappear behind Granny’s hedges.

“Mayor French’s brother, Alex,” Emma shrugged, turning to face her sister-in-law. “Fancy some cake?”

 

Sunday night dinner at the Gold household was usually quite subdued. After many, many years together, Belle and Rumple had refined their conversation down to topics like literature and the pawn shop’s budget. They had discussed their lives in Nevermore to death and back. Their long affair whilst Rumple had been in Tortuga and Belle had been a Navigator on _The Bloody Blade_. Rumple’s various misdeeds. The curse he had cast out of desperation to save his daughter’s life.

But now Henry was home and he had brought Alex back with him. Alex, who had been a part of their family for an hour before Belle and Rumple had loaded the two children on a bus and away from Storybrooke. And suddenly the dinner table had new dynamics.

“Have you been to see your mother yet, Henry?” Belle asked as she received the mashed potatoes from the other end of the table.

“I visited Emma at the station yesterday,” he nodded, spooning vegetables into his mouth. “And I’m planning on paying mom a visit tomorrow.”

“Why not this morning?” Rumple wanted to know, cutting up his steak. “I know your mom’s not going anywhere, but you haven’t seen her in twenty eight years, Henry.”

“It was volunteer day at the hospital,” Henry said shortly. “I don’t want to be interrupted when I visit.”

Belle smiled, keen to keep the conversation moving. Now Henry was a grown man, she had suspected that he would be a lot more judgemental of Rumple and his choice’s than he had been when he was a child. It would not do to have all the unsaid animosity come out at their first dinner, meeting Alex again.

“What about you, Alex honey?” She asked, offering him potatoes. “Have you seen David and Mary-Margaret yet?”

He took them and spooned one onto his plate. “No,” he said shortly to her, shovelling food into his mouth at a lightning-fast rate.

“Oh,” Belle replied softly, surprised by his abrupt words. It was true that he hadn’t said much upon arrival earlier that day, just a mumble of thanks as she brought him a cup of tea in the guest bedroom, but she had attributed that to shyness or nerves. But now she was forced to re-evaluate. He was the son of Snow and Charming, the brother of Captain Swan, of course he did not suffer from being meek. “Are you planning on –“

“No,” he said again, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. “I’m just here for Henry’s sake. Once I fulfil my part in this dumb prophecy, I’ll be hauling ass out of here.” He swallowed his last bite and departed up the stairs, leaving his dirty plate on the table.

Rumple stood abruptly, quiet rage on his face but oddly unsteady as he reached for the cane that he needed in this world, since there was no magic here. He was about to limp after Alex when Henry stood too and laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t, grandpa,” he said in a warning tone. “Unlike the rest of us, he is not indebted to you. The only thing you can accomplish by going after him is driving him away.”

They held eyes for a second, grandfather and grandson, whilst Belle held only her breath. Then, much to her shock, Rumple nodded and sat back down. “Thanks for dinner, Belle,” Henry said, reservedly polite as he took his and Alex’s plates out to the kitchen, leaving she and Rumple alone once more.

 

Her phone rang just as she was stepping out of the shower and Emma cursed as she almost lost her balance, steading herself on the towel rail. She fished her way through her jeans’ pockets, searching for the damned device, resulting in her breathing heavily into the phone when she picked up. “Hello?”

“Did I interrupt something?” Asked an amused voice that she recognised from only its low, melodic tone.

She straightened up, suddenly and painfully aware that she was stark naked in the women’s locker room. “Alex,” she half-whispered, hoping to God there wasn’t anybody outside as she wrapped a towel around her body. “What’s up?” She peered round the stall curtain and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she was alone.

“Why are you whispering?” The man she had met only the other day said in that same, amused manner of his.

It was a balancing act, propping her phone between her head and shoulder and shimmying into her skin-tight jeans at the same time, but Emma managed it. “Locker room,” she replied shortly. “I didn’t know whether or not I was alone.”

“Anyway,” Alex laughed. “I was wondering if you were free for coffee this morning? I rang the station first, but your brother told me you had the night shift.”

Emma paused mid-buttoning of her shirt, leaving it hanging open. “Erm…” she trailed off indecisively.

“I’m buying,” Alex told her, attempting to capture her interest. “C’mon, please?”

“A _friendly_ coffee,” Emma finally gave in, folding her jacket over her arm as she exited the locker room. “Nothing more. Meet me in ten?”

She was left with only a dial tone. “Polite,” she muttered to herself as she stuffed it back in her pocket. _Asshole._

 

“I don’t appreciate being hung up on,” was the first thing out of Emma’s mouth as she sat down opposite Alex. “So you owe me a coffee _and_ a bear claw.”

The blond man smiled in a manner that should have come across as charming and alluring, but oddly did nothing to inspire Emma. “Coming right up,” he said as he slid out of the booth, leaving Emma with nothing to look at but his briefcase.

Sneaking a glance over at the counter, where Granny was holding a menacing looking wooden spoon as Alex chatted, Emma made a grab for the case. She was a Sheriff first and foremost, and made it her task to investigate every strange going-on in town. Including spontaneous visitors, even if they were relatives of the Mayor.

The first section revealed a passport, driver’s licence and some other meaningless papers. She pocketed the passport and kept searching. The second section yielded only a compact laptop. But the third… she pulled her successful find out of the case and set it down on the table. It was too big to take away with her, so Emma flicked open the cover of the large book and took a quick photo with her phone of the introduction, to read later. Then she stuffed everything but the passport back into the briefcase and put it back where Alex had left it, just as he arrived back at the booth with her coffee and pastry.

“One bear claw,” Alex announced, sliding the plate along to her. She smiled in thanks, sipped her coffee and pondered the conundrum of Alex French as they engaged in light conversation.

 

“ _Fuck_.”

Emma lifted her head from where she had been drilling nails into her stair railing to look at Alex. He was half-jumping up and down, sucking his thumb and grimacing. She surmised that he had managed to make the amateur mistake of hammering his thumb instead of the nail.

“Alright?” She called over, wiping a few sweaty strands of hair from her forehead. “You’ve not broken any of my ship, right?”

Alex glared at her, stalking over and shoving his thumb into her thumb. “That’s going to bruise,” she told him in a very matter of fact sort of way.

“Would it kill you to show a bit of sympathy, woman?” He demanded of her and sat down on the step she had just finished building with a thump.

“Hey!” She warned him. “You really will injure the ship at this rate.”

He made a childish face at her and continued to suck his own injury. She laughed and turned back to her drilling.

There was a pause. Emma continued her task, but listening all the while until… “Can we not just pack up early?”

“Fine, French,” she rolled her eyes as she packed her drill carefully away. “But you’re buying the first round.”

 

The kettle began to whistle on the stove, cutting through the thick tension with a knife. But the three of them continued to sit there, not really looking at each other but none willing to break the impasse by removing the kettle.

Finally, Mary-Margaret stood. “I’ll go and make the tea,” she said quietly.

She left David and Emma, both equally bad at talking things through. Neither determined to do so but both knowing that they had to.

“Are you… okay… with this?” David asked her quietly.

Emma lifted her head from where she had been staring at a piece of kitchen table for the last couple of minutes. “I’m okay,” she said slowly, picking and discarding words as she spoke. “I’m just a little… surprised,” she added carefully. “I thought Dr Whale said it was impossible for Mary-Margaret to…”

“Have any more babies?” David finished for her. He shook his head. “We thought so too, and it’s been so long since then, we’d kind of… forgotten?”

“But she’s…” Emma closed her eyes in disbelief at what she was about to say. “Definitely pregnant?”

“Yes,” David replied quietly.

There was an almost peaceable lull until Mary-Margaret set down mugs in front of them both. Emma took a sip, grimaced and swallowed before attempting congratulations.

“You don’t have to say it,” David told her just as she opened her mouth. “But just know that even though there’ll be another person in our lives, she or he will be your family too. We will _all_ still be a family.” He placed his hand over Emma’s. “I know we said it would be just the two of us when dad kicked us out. But that didn’t change when I married Mary-Margaret and it won’t change now, either.”

“I know,” she smiled at him. “Congrats, big brother. Name it after me.”

 

Emma tapped the bar, silently asking for another. ‘The Rabbit Hole’ was a dark, dingy little place, not where a Sheriff should really be spending most of her time. She groaned and folded her arms, resting her head on them and closing her eyes. She just really didn’t give a damn.

“Not even midday,” that permanently amused voice commented. The sound of a body sliding into a bar stool came from next to her and Emma scrunched up her nose.

“Fuck _off_ , Alex,” she pushed weakly at his arm and he batted her off. “I want to be alone.” She took a deep breath and sat up, grabbing the base of the glass which the bartender had just set in front of her. She observed it, then lifted and drained the whole thing in one go.

Only then did she turn to look at her friend, who cocked an eyebrow right back at her.

“Want to tell me what’s up?” He asked, looking directly at her in a slightly unnerving fashion.

She played with her glass, drumming the bottom against the wood of the bar for a moment. Then took a deep breath. “I stole your passport,” she blurted out. “When we first met and I didn’t know anything about you. I stole it. I made a photocopy and put it back. And I ran your name. And I read the introduction of that dumb book you keep in your briefcase.”

Throughout her confession, Alex kept a straight face, except a small twitch when she mentioned his book. “I kind of guessed,” he admitted right back to her. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. All my papers were ruffled and my passport was missing for a few hours. Did you find out anything interesting?”

She shook her head. “Not so much as a DUI.”

“So you took an interest,” Alex shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. If you’d _kept_ the passport, well that would’ve been different… but no harm done. So why are you confessing?”

“This is why I don’t have anybody,” Emma told him, fixating on the grain of wood she was resting her elbows on rather than looking at Alex. “I’m just so… I’m so fucking _lonely_ , Alex. And now my brother’s wife is pregnant and my own family won’t have time for me anymore and I never know when you’re gonna leave too and –“

The flow of words came to an abrupt halt and she let her head hit the drink mat, hard.

There was a pause and a noticeable silence from her right, where Alex was somehow still sitting calmly on his barstool. “Come with me,” he said after a moment. “There’s something I think you need to see.”

 

Emma had dried the one or two tears that had accidentally fallen during her rant by the time they pulled up at the place where Alex was taking her. Still she had to blink a few times before she could quite comprehend where they were. “Storybrooke General Hospital?” She asked incredulously. “ _Really?_ ”

“C’mon,” he said, as roughly as she had ever heard him, and applied the handbrake with excess force. “This is important.”

_It better fucking be_ , Emma thought to herself as she let herself be dragged through the doors and up four flights of stairs. Maybe a ward of kids with terminal illness to tug at her heartstrings. She’d seen that kind of thing in movies. The privileged, snotty protagonist coming to face with their trivial problems by being confronting with life and death wrapped in the most heart-breaking little bundle.

It really was devastating. And it really did work. Emma mentally prepared herself.

But they weren’t on the oncology floor. They weren’t really on _any_ specialist floor, but it was a quiet one. Nurses bustled around, but there were no pregnant women, no code blues, and no stretchers being rushed in. It was as peaceful as Emma had ever seen a hospital.

“In here,” Alex said in a hushed voice and slid open the glass door. And in Emma stepped.

The patient in this hospital bed was a woman. A beautiful woman, even in a hospital gown and with a face free of any products. She breathed deeply, peacefully, constantly. There was no sign that there was anything even wrong with her.

“Why is she here?” Emma drew up a chair, barely even aware that she was doing so, and sat down, propping her chin up on her hands.

“Stabbed in an alleyway when she was just twenty two years old,” Alex murmured, as though he was respecting the peacefulness of the room. “She’s been in a coma ever since. Barely anybody visits her and every doctor that has ever worked her case says that the chances of her waking up are miniscule at best.”

Emma looked at the patient. Looked at how her long hair spread over the pillow, how she breathed steadily with a little help from the nose tube that hooked around her ears. How her pulse beat steadily on the monitors. “What’s her name?” She asked Alex quietly.

“Regina,” Alex told her in reply. “Her name’s Regina Gold.”

The Sheriff of Storybrooke looked up at him sharply. “There’s no way she can be Mayor French’s daughter. They must be the same age.”

“No,” Alex shook his head. “She’s not blood-related to Belle and myself. She’s Gold’s daughter from a previous marriage. I’ve never really asked.”

“Does he not visit her?” Emma asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

“Not that I know of.”

 

After that, Emma made a point of stopping by Room F051 as often as she could. Sometimes she brought flowers. Occasionally a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses and drinking both.

But it was only once that she read to the coma patient.

It had started a visit like any other. Emma had covertly checked out the visitor’s log on the nurse’s desk to see who had visited since the last time she had been. As Sheriff, she got away with not signing the log. So did Regina’s emergency contact, which was unfortunately Gold, so she never knew when or if he was coming.

Henry Gold visited sometimes, every week or so. Alex came with her many weekends, but never alone. Flipping back through the log, Emma saw that Belle had made a habit of stopping by every six or so months. Unsurprising, considering what a kind soul the Mayor had. Of course she would make a point of visiting her husband’s comatose child.

After her semi-stalker-ish session with the logs, Emma entered the room. Usually she sat down right away and relaxed in Regina’s company. But today… today, somebody had left something behind from their own visit.

The last visit other than her own had been Henry, two days ago. But she had been in yesterday, and the book laying on Regina’s bed now hadn’t been there then. So somebody had snuck in covertly and left their book behind.

Strange. Very strange.

She picked it up and flipped the cover over so she could read its title. Then froze. “This is Alex’s book,” she whispered to herself. It was unforgettable, that cover. ‘ONCE UPON A TIME’ had been printed on it in medieval font and its leather bound cover felt as rough to the touch as it had done that day Emma had fished it out of his briefcase.

There was a bookmark in it. Emma flicked through the pages until she reached where Alex had last been reading. Her eyes skipped to the title of the story at the top of the page. “The Tale of the Princess and the Pirate Captain,” she read dubiously, and rolled her eyes. “What a pile of crap.”

She chucked the book back on the bed and then, in a rare moment of connection, took Regina’s hand in hers and clasped it tightly. “Alright sweet cheeks,” she grinned at the sleeper, “I’m going to tell you a _proper_ story, not any of that fairytale bullshit.”

“Once upon a fifth beer,” Emma began resolutely, trying to keep herself from laughing as she told her own version of a fairytale. “There was a nasty-as-fuck pirate. Let’s call her Emma. Now Emma was a charmer, good-looking too. And not too bad with the ladies, if you know what I mean Sleeping Beauty.” She winked at Regina. “So Emma’s on her way to getting good and smashed when this little lady comes up next to her, looking super mysterious in one of those hooded-things…” She snapped her fingers. “A cloak!”

“Now Emma couldn’t see under that cloak, but she offered to buy her a drink anyway because Emma is a real charmer, remember?” Slowly, and not even realising what she was doing, the Sheriff started to rub circles over the back of Regina’s hand. “And when the strange woman accepted Emma’s offer, the pirate realised she wasn’t dealing with any old broad. No, the stranger was a freaking _lady_. Let’s call her… Regina.”

And then Emma gasped. Because ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly… Regina’s hand had tightened around hers.

There was a brief second, where it was still just them. Just a coma patient and the local Sheriff, come to visit. Then Emma dropped Regina’s hand like a hot rock and jumped out of her chair.

“Nurse!” She yelled into the empty corridor. “NURSE!”

 

Fingers snapped in front of her face. Once. Twice. “Emma!”

“What?” The woman asked startled, coming out of her daze.

Alex sighed. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?”

Emma shook her head in apology and put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry Alex,” she mumbled. “I just… can’t think about anything other than what happened at the hospital today.”

Her friend shrugged. “It’s understandable. I think everybody would be a bit freaked out if a coma patient squeezed their hand.” He smiled at her and pushed her mostly-whole burger towards her. “Relax and eat. You know Dr Whale said it was just a freak spike in brain activity. It happens sometimes and it’s nothing to do with you.”

“I know,” Emma replied in frustration, twisting a fry around in her fingers. “But…”

There was a silence as Emma chewed on the deep fried potato. It tasted a little like how she imagined cardboard to taste like. She put her head back in her hands, fighting the headache that was threatening to seize all logic and serenity from her mind –

“Your phone’s ringing.”

Emma glared at Alex as she lifted her head back up and fished around in her pocket. “I _realise_ ,” she emphasised. In all truthfulness, she hadn’t realised, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Sheriff Swan,” she answered tiredly. _Please, God. Anything but a cat up a tree._

“Hello Sheriff,” said a voice which she had been speaking to only earlier that day. “It’s Dr Whale here. We have a missing patient.”

Emma sat up straight in her chair, suddenly awake as though she had been electrified. “Who?” She demanded, although perhaps deep inside she already knew the answer.

“Regina Gold,” Dr Whale answered, and then hesitated. “The patient who squeezed your hand earlier.”

Emma closed her eyes in terror. _Missing._ “I’ll be right there.” She ended the call and looked into Alex’s concerned eyes. “It’s Regina,” she said quietly, already breathing a little harder with adrenaline. “She’s gone.”

 

The Sheriff pulled up at the hospital with a screech of tires, hurrying up the main stairs with Alex jogging along right behind her. “Is Dr Whale around?” She asked the nurse on duty, slightly breathless from the run.

“In the security room,” the nurse stood up abruptly. “I’ll take you.”

She led them to a room just off the main hall, where two security guards, a cleaner, a nurse and Dr Whale were all congregated with similar panicked expressions. “Sheriff,” somebody exclaimed. “Thank God!”

“Have you got any tapes of the missing person?” Emma slid into work mode, trying her best not to think of the patient she had grown immeasurably fond of.

“We’ve established she left under her own will,” Whale nodded. “Play back the tape, Leroy?”

The guard sitting before the monitor pressed a button and suddenly Emma was watching Regina move about, conscious for the first time since Emma had known her. The lithe little brunette made her way to the exit and, with some effort, propped a door open to escape out of.

“Where does that door go?” Emma demanded.

She looked around at every blank face in the room before one of the security guards finally answered her. “I don’t know why it’s there, Sheriff, but most of the lads pop out that door for a smoke.”

Emma resisted the urge to groan in frustration. “But where does it _go_ , Stan?” She demanded of the guard.

Stan the security guard frowned. “The Docks, I think, Sheriff. If you follow the path long enough.”

 

Her feet beat the path in a steady rhythm as she ran through the sparse woodland, breaking only once or twice to jump over stray logs. Behind her, she could hear Alex breathing heavily as he ran after her, but she couldn’t stop or slow down to let him catch up.

Her lungs were protesting and her legs were starting to burn, but Emma would not let up the fast pace she had set herself until she broke through the edge of the wood and sighted the sea lapping against the docks.

Suddenly the dirt path beneath her feet gave way to solid wood and she was pounding over solid wooden slats, past fishermen and afternoon strollers. Her head was turning wildly as she searched for Regina, her eyes roaming over ships and piers and people.

Then she caught sight of something that made her heart skip a beat.

Regina’s hospital tag. It had been around her wrist for all the time that Emma had been visiting her. She’d never taken the time to read all the fine hospital print and now as she picked it up, the only part of the bracelet that was not obscured by sand was the bold lettering of ‘Regina Gold’ in all caps.

Alex came up behind her, panting loudly. Emma offered him the tag without words and he took it. “She’s been here,” he surmised quietly for her. “So where the hell is she now?”

The Sheriff took a moment to stop and think. “What spooked her so much that she ran straight out of the hospital, and why would she head for the docks?”

Alex bit his lip. “Well… what were you doing before she squeezed your hand?”

Emma frowned at him. “Nothing special,” she tried to remember. “Oh! You left that dumb book of yours behind on her bed, so I made up an equally stupid story of my mine to tell her.” She had barely finished her inadequate description of her visit when Alex shocked her by grabbing her arm.

“The story,” he said, more aggressively than she had ever seen him before. “What was it about?”

“Er…” Emma fished for words. “I don’t know… a Princess, a pirate…” She shrugged in desperation. “It was just a dumb _fairytale_ , Alex!”

But he was gone, running down the dock. “Alex!” She yelled after him as loudly as she could. “Alex!” Nearly screaming in exasperation and feeling the pressure of a missing person, she took off after him.

Where the _hell_ was he going? They were down to nearly the last pier when he took an abrupt right turn, still running at full speed. Emma had a stitch and her entire body was burning, but she kept going out of sheer determination. She had run out of breath to keep yelling after her friend, but still had enough brain power to wonder why the hell Alex was climbing the gangplank up to _her_ ship.

The Bloody Blade creaked a little below her as she too climbed the gangplank two steps at a time and jumped onto deck with a bang. And there, lying on the floor with Alex crouching over her, was the missing patient they had been searching for.

Regina was flat on her back and unconscious again. Both her hair and her hospital gown were billowing out around her and Emma dropped to her knees beside the patient, pressing two fingers to the woman’s neck. A pulse beat there, but it was thready and weak, filling Emma with panic.

“She’s not breathing,” Alex informed, sounding as frightened as she felt. “Emma! Do something.”

“Not breathing,” Emma whispered to herself, frantically trying to remember the first aid course she was forced by the Mayor to take every year. “Right.” She tried to position the patient’s body the best she could, then pinched her nostrils closed. “Then…” Emma trailed off.

She leaned down awkwardly and placed her lips around Regina’s and breathed out.

Her lips were warm. Really warm. And that heat spread over her face and over her body, coating itself over her fingers and her toes. It left her body, surrounding the air around her. The body beneath her was _breathing_ and everything suddenly made more sense than it had done in years.

“Emma,” a hoarse voice croaked as their lips separated. “Emma.”

Captain Swan looked down at her true love and let out a sound that could have been a sob or a laugh. “Princess Regina,” she breathed out, capturing her lips once more.

Hands pushed weakly at her shoulders and Emma broke their kiss to sit on her heels and look down at the other woman. “That’s Queen to you,” Regina protested weakly.

Emma laughed. “My _Queen_ ,” she corrected herself, caressing her cheek.

“MOM!” A voice yelled from the other side of the deck and a body barrelled its way between the two of them, gathering Regina up in a fierce hug.

“What the hell,” Regina croaked and Emma tugged their son away from his frailer mother. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Henry, mom,” the boy who had grown into a man told Regina. “Your son.”

“Oh Gods, Emma!” The Queen gasped. “What did you feed him?”

All the culpable pirate could do was smile, laugh and gather her family up in the fiercest hug she could manage. Because although they had to face a curse, Rumplestiltskin, being in a new land… Emma had her true love and her son back. And she’d never be happier than she was in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, come say hi at my tumblr - the-scabbard.


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